Stephyblue Original: Where the Heart Is
by Stephyblue
Summary: Rachel is trapped in a miserable marriage without the strength to escape. Her only refuge, an online flame named Foxfire. However, when Rachel crosses paths with Quinn again after ten years of being apart she begins to wonder what a different life would be like. The only tricky part being whose arms should she fall into if she decides to change her fate...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello all! So, this is a fanfic favorite from some time ago. I don't think any of my new readers ever saw this. As promised in my profile, I will update the fics from this collection "Stephyblue Originals" every day, so no waiting around. This is a finished fic so I will just make sure that there aren't any typos and then post. I hope you enjoy.

Also (in the name of shameless self promotion) you can find me on Facebook under Stephanie Kusiak Author, Tumblr under Stephyblue-and-Beyond, and you can find Loved and Lost through Amazon coming in JUNE!

One final note: I just want to say I adore you, all of you who have supported me, reblogged me, messaged me, reviewed me, gave me the nerve to put myself out there and helped me follow my dreams. You have no idea how deeply I care and am indebted to you. Each and every single one of you. Thank you for your continued readership and support. ~Stephy

And without further ado... your story.

* * *

Where the Heart Is

* * *

Chapter 1

_She's leaning on the door frame, staring at me. I don't know who she is, but somehow I know her so well. Her image steals the air from my lungs. She smiles, rubbing the obvious chills off her arms as she holds my eyes. "I love you."_

_It is a voice I know I could remember if I heard it again, warm and rich with affection. I feel the butterflies in my stomach, the overwhelming joy at hearing her say those words. It fixes the broken parts of me that I didn't think anyone could heal._

_I beckon her over and her arms are warm around my back as I welcome her into my embrace. "I love you too." I feel the pull of my heart strings as she smiles and kisses my nose._

_"Good."_

_I know she has witty humor, we've shared so many jokes together, but it stops in moments like this. It feels like she can see right into my soul, and every touch and word transcends my flesh. Her long hair twines in my fingers and I take my time studying her face. I trace the lines and angles, candle light flattering the perfection before me, and breathlessly I close my eyes as our lips meet._

_Her tongue is touching mine, caressing and soft. She takes her time in kissing me, so very unlike others who use kisses as a step-stool to heighten my arousal. To her, it isn't a means to an end. It is the beginning and the end and everything in that moment. _

_I hold her tightly, running my nails against her scalp and down her neck. She's shivering and I grin against her soft lips. I find it hard to surrender to this wave of feeling, but when her arms tighten around my shoulders and hips I swallow back on my fear. I want to want her and need to have her. I need to feel her pull me apart and break every nerve ending in my body. I need her to chip the walls away and wreck my whole life to make me new again. _

_"I need you, baby please..." I feel tears in my eyes and she wipes them away before I can shed them._

_"Are you sure?"_

_And in this blissful moment it is the only thing I'm sure of in my whole life. "Yes, I haven't wanted anything more in my whole life."_

_Blissfully she doesn't need any additional encouragement. I'm crying again and I can't stop, her powerful hands wiping the salty drops away as her lips own me. Her crashing, dizzying kisses make me unable to pull at additional thought while she works loose the waist of my robe._

_"You are my life." Her voice has gone husky with emotion, and she's grappling for more skin to touch. I walk backward toward the bed and she pulls her shirt off, baring her breasts to me._

_"You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." And I mean it. I'm blinded by everything I want before me. I'm already so close to coming apart. No one has owned me like this. No one ever could, but her. I touch her skin, the heat of it burning against my hungry palms. She drapes herself over me as I lay back on the blankets. The sheet of her sweet smelling hair surrounds us and blocks out the light._

_Her smile is partly shy and partly sensual. I watch as she pulls her pants down and off, a moment later spreading wide the pink robe still clinging to my shoulders. Her lean hips fit against my pelvis and press pleasantly in all the right places. I know she can feel my wetness against her as my thighs wrap around hers. I moan only to have the sound cut off a moment later as her lips claim mine again._

_There is urgency in her touches, because she knows how badly I need her. She pulls back to slid her hand between us. She caresses between my lips until I quiver, and then she is inside me deeply. I cling to her, groaning out against the sublime motion of her hand. Her intimate knowledge works its magic, the muscles in my body tightening to the breaking._

_"Oh Jesus," I gush gritting my teeth, the edge of the cliff within sight so quickly my mind is numb._

_"I want to make you feel good." With almost unreal strength I'm sitting up and sliding into her lap, splayed across her thighs. Her arm is around me, holding me tightly as her kisses steal the breath from my lungs. Her fingers are in me again and I'm helpless to do anything but let her control the building of this infinitely powerful orgasm. I feel myself coming apart, crumbling, tightening, breaking in half under the motions and the protection I feel._

_Her motions within me slow down, stalling me exquisitely at the apex of my pleasure. I'm able to gather my shaken breath caught between relief and desire. I slip my hand down between us, my forearm brushing the taut muscles of her abdomen, and feeling her wetness catches the breath in my lungs. I slip my fingers through the folds of skin, finding her nub and circling; causing a strangled gasp to escape her mouth. "I want the same for you, my love."_

_Touching her and watching the flicker of excitement spill through her makes me feel powerful and privileged. It takes the burn out of every moment in my life where I failed at something, because now I'm a success as I draw her tauntingly closer to her own peak. I'm arching as she moves inside me again, driving me into an incoherent mess within her arms._

_I know instinctively when she shudders against me that she is at the brink. She holds my gaze and I hers, watching her face shift, her eyes filling with ecstasy and glassing over as she hits the edge of no return. I slide my tongue across her lips and she orgasms in a soft sound of appreciation and staggered breathes. Her hands have stopped within me, letting me feel the drumming of her heart against me and the quivering of her muscles. I'm kissing her mouth, trying to crawl into her and hide from the world. It is the only place where anything feels right. I ease back, playfully teasing her lips with mine._

_"Oh God, Rachel." she cries softly breaking our kisses. "I want you to come for me." The candles burn brightly suddenly, silhouetting her in ethereal light and I am more than willing to oblige. The vision of her glistening and aroused is enough to do it on its own, without the addition of her perfect touching as she begins again._

_I can't offer her my promises that I will orgasm for her, she doesn't need them anyway. She knows I can't speak now that I'm so close. The motion of her hands blurs my eyes with tears as everything begins to ache so desperately I want to scream. Her free arm is wrapped around me, her hand fanning over the back of my head as she claims my body. I crave her touch and for the singular unity that I have never been able to find until this moment. _

_I firm my mouth against hers, dueling our tongues against each other, her touches moving faster between us. Her hand shifts and her palm hits the bundle of nerves every time her fingers thunder into me. I feel a whistle and see starlight behind my eyes as I tighten down on her hand adding friction._

_I know I'm making the stupidest face as I pull back and grit my teeth. I also know she doesn't care and treasures it. Her chest shudders against me and I follow her, focusing hard on her half lidded gaze and her amazing touch within me. My broken breaths punctuate the air around us, drawing a syncopated rhythm against her uneven breathing and small moans. It is perfect, she is, and we are. Everything in the world is perfect._

_"I'm going to come." I strangle in a whisper and she pulls me tighter. My entire existence pinpointed on her touches as I close my eyes and just-_

_Exist._

I open my eyes to have the hazy warm images replaced with the blackness of my room and the darkness of my life.

My sweaty palm is pressed to the comforter anchoring me as I kneel beside the bed. My eyes fixed on a sleeping face that I can't touch because he can't touch me. Not like this, not deep within my heart where the nameless, faceless beauty drives me to my knees in reticent fantasy. My fantasies taking me far away from the floor beside the dirty laundry and the shame I feel.

I close my eyes again, holding tightly to the warm image of _her_ touching me. And I circle my clit almost able to imagine it is _her_ hand. _Her_ breath against my neck, teasing me with epithets of love and desire. I can feel the build in my abdomen, a burn so deep it makes my back ache. I sink back on my thighs, arching a little and rolling my head back automatically.

_She_ drives me to a climax, but I'm quivering alone.

Numbly, I collapse against the edge of the bed, breathing deep the scent of clean blankets. I peer at my sleeping husband glad he didn't feel me move and didn't hear the sigh escape my lips at the firecracker in my soul.

These moments make me feel so empty and fragile. I don't like being fragile. I want to remember who I was and how strong my heart used to be. I want to say my name, use the moniker Rachel Berry as a reminder that I'm still here. But that girl is so far gone I can't find her anymore. So instead I drown in the regrets of my life. The dreams that slipped out of my hands, leaving holes in my once brave heart.

When I think of that, those dreams lost, I cup my mouth as the tears pile up behind my dark eyes until they force through and rip me apart. It will only be a moment for me, until I can cap the pain in my heart and stop my sobs. This slight release on my emotions equate to enough purging that I can regain my grip on reality.

I slide my trembling hand out of my sleep shorts and sneak to the bathroom. I wipe the evidence of my arousal and flush it away. My hands are still shaking as I wash them. I can't meet my reflection in the mirror, not this time, because I know how deeply I'm empty and alone.

In the watery darkness of my misery, I crawl into bed, my skin tingling and knees weak. Holding my pillow, I stare at the dresser across from me wishing that I could get the strength to pack my things and leave.

As if he knows, his arm wraps around me tightly. Its literal and symbolic and I clamp my eyes closed against the burn of his warm strength, holding me and keeping me captive in the misery of my life.

When the tears come again, I blink them away, fresh in the knowledge that this is my life. I try to sleep, to dream again and chase down the illusive warmth of my true love out there in the world somewhere. Yet, I know dimly that tomorrow will be the same and the day after that.

And the day after.

Forever.

My final fleeting thought before I surrender to sleep is a question. I wonder where the woman I used to be went and why such a pathetic shell has been left behind as a place keeper in her stead.

* * *

And tomorrow. The next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So... I haven't read this in easily two years. It's like the first time all over again.

* * *

Chapter 2

_I slide my hands up her back, drawing a low soft moan. I cut it off with my lips as I press them against her mouth. We burst into laughter a moment later. I don't know what we are joking about as we attempt to bath. I mean attempt because as the shower water lubricates her body, I hungrily caress it with my hands, drawing designs in the sheets of liquid pouring down her. It is entirely without direction, or suds._

_Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer so she can devour my mouth. I'm trying to steal looks at her face between kisses, but all I manage to do is flutter my eyelashes. Her eyes are light and soft, her eyelashes thick with water as I finally pull away far enough to look at her._

_And I can almost see who she is through the fog, but then she is melting away…_

The radio alarm rouses me from a tangle of my dreams. I shake them free of my mind as an annoyed grumble rumbles the bed beside me. "What the fuck, Rachel."

His voice puts a whip of ice up my spine. Sometimes in these in-between moments of awake and asleep, I forget the game of Russian roulette I play every morning. I never know the monster I will wake beside. Apparently, today isn't the nicest version of him.

I shoot out of bed, slamming my hand against the alarm clock, silencing it. I'm fully awake by the time I realize I'm standing at the edge of the bed. "Rachel." He doesn't move as I stare at his bare back. "Why in the fuck do you have that thing so loud?"

I don't know how to answer. I don't remember why I set it to that volume. It wasn't louder than any other day; perhaps it was just the station. I look at the alarm clock trying to remember, focusing on the volume dial. I reach out and turn it down a little more, worried that if I dip it too low that I might not hear it tomorrow. I stare at my hand as it shakes against the gray plastic.

"I'm sorry, Richard. I don't know why it-"

He sighs angrily, silencing me. "Save it. I'm fucking awake now." I brace for something more, the typical tirade. The yelling, the 'venting' as he calls it. However, he just rolls out of bed and adjusts his boxers on the way to the bathroom. I'm so grateful that he didn't scream, I actually smile.

I don't miss how wrong it is that I do _that_ as I make my way out into the kitchen to whip up coffee for us.

I stare into the refrigerator, relishing in the cool air that pours down around my feet. I grab the cream, flex the paper mouth in my fingers, opening it. It swirls into the black coffee, coloring it lighter. A few scoops of sugar dissolve a moment later.

It feels normal. It is normal. This is normal, right?

"All right." Richard's voice burrs behind me, sounding cheerier than before. "Coffee." He accepts the cup with a kiss on my cheek, and in that moment he reminds me of the man I married five years before; the one that made me feel so happy.

He carries it into the TV room of our small one bedroom apartment and with a careless flick of the remote the news shoots onto the television's blank screen. I carry my cup with me as I slip to the sofa beside him. It doesn't take long for the caffeine to wipe the last of my sleepy haze away.

That dream. Jesus. I ruffle my hair trying to mask how jumbled it makes me feel just thinking about it. Jumbled in a very good way, but still. I stare blankly at the TV, thinking about it, remembering every inch of my midnight seductress until I feel my body clench. Then I become aware that I can feel wetness between my legs and I cross them, hoping that the new angle doesn't make it feel so obvious.

It really doesn't help and I can stand the feeling for a total of five seconds sitting here beside a man that couldn't make me this wet if he tried. I set my mug down. "Bathroom." I remark as he turns to look at me. And I'm up and out of his view, away from the steady seemingly all knowing gaze that he lashes against me.

More toilet paper, more flushing. I should buy stock in Charmin. Seriously.

I look up at my reflection and give myself a sarcastic smile. Plain Jane, Rachel Berry. Arlington. Rachel Arlington, I correct, and the cheeky smile melts from my face. I run my hands through the short length of my hair, twisting it and then letting it fall.

I never would have believed I would end up being nothing. I'm nothing. I stare into my eyes as I think it, and clear my throat of the thickness I feel at the thought. Being nothing and no one is worse than the worst thing I could ever have imagined.

My eyes drift to the face that pokes through the bathroom door.

"What are you doing in here?" Richard gives me a goofy smile as he slides in. "You checking yourself out?"

His hands are hot against my shoulders as he rubs them and then scoops them around the front of my body, cupping my breasts. I close my eyes so I don't see the reflection of it in the mirror. I can't watch, I never could. "You're hot." He whispers against my neck as he uses his chin to press my head to the side. His open mouth kisses give me the chills, my body reacting on instinct.

He squeezes my nipple and it hurts as they harden from his mouth on my neck. I hiss in protest, but I know he thinks its pleasure as he does it again. "Ouch." I whisper to clarify things. "That's too hard."

"Oh sorry. I thought you liked it." He pulls his hands back. "Are you on your rag?" I know it shouldn't bother me when he phrases things like that, but there is something so profoundly unsexy about asking me like that. It's enough to take any wash of arousal I had, and stall it.

I open my eyes and stare at his reflection. I can't keep the annoyance out of my voice. "No, I'm not. I hate it when you ask me like that."

He laughs a little. "I'm sorry. Your period? Your, um… time of the month?" He snickers teasing me.

"Stop it."

"Okay." His voice deepens and his hands slide down to my hips. He touches me very gently, I have trained him to go slow. His fingers brush my sleep shirt up and he presses my shorts down.

I don't want to make him mad, so I stand there and let him. To be honest, I'm so tired I don't even care. I just close my eyes and bend over a little allowing him access. I'm sure that someone somewhere would be sad to hear this, would be horrified to know that I'm this weak. That I just do what I have to do, and let him have what he wants.

Honestly, he won't yell for a week if I let him, so I do.

As much as he would like to believe that he is a big man, he isn't, so it doesn't flash pain as he enters me. Not physically anyway. I just bow my head forward and let his hands anchor me as he stakes his claim, erasing the beautiful imprints on the inside of my mind.

His voice warbles as he pumps faster, making my body respond. How can it not? The body is programmed to, right? I moan as he shifts his angle and for a moment he hits something amazing and wonderful. Then he moves again and its not as perfect and certainly not amazing.

"You were so wet already." He states in short punctuated words as his hips buck into me. "You wanted this baby?"

I nod, because how could I tell him that everything he feels, that the wetness that makes his thrusts glide so well was for someone I don't know, but certainly not him. I reason that he really isn't that bad of a guy, so why not let him have his pleasure.

"I didn't hear you." He leans over me, and for the first time in a long time his angle actually hurts.

"That angle isn't going to work for me." I shift on my tippy toes to escape the direction he is hitting me in.

He doesn't let up. "Tell me you wanted this."

"I wanted this." I lie. "Now, please…"

"Give me thirty seconds cause this is awesome." His hands firm on me, holding me steady in that awkard position. I grit my teeth. Thirty seconds is forever when every movement burns. My skin beads in perspiration and I wait, listening to his breath and the idle swat of him against me. I know he is looking at me in the mirror and he can see I'm wincing. Yet, he doesn't stop and I don't understand why.

And finally, mercifully, he comes.

I palm the counter as he shifts away, leaving me immediately sore.

"God Rachel, that was amazing." He whispers turning me to place balming kisses on my mouth. I kiss back, as his hand slips between my legs and rubs over my clit. He rubs in wide broad strokes and I clench in response.

But it hurts too much, so I pry away from his lips. "No, no. No more." I feint a heavy breath and force a shudder. "That was awesome."

"And fast." He proclaims proudly. "I'm getting better."

I smile and nod as he gently tilts my head up and kisses my lips. It is an innocent chaste thing full of all the emotion he can give me.

And though I'm sore and a little annoyed, I know it is my fault because I can't feel the emotion anymore. I don't love him. I don't think bathroom sex is sexy anymore. It isn't fun, it isn't anything. It is just the role I have to play.

"Better hop in the shower baby." He breezes lips against mine. "You don't want to be late and you smell like you got fucked royally." He laughs against my lips and something in the way he says it makes me believe it was fun.

And I don't feel so bad anymore as I swat his shoulder and roll my eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: annnnnnnnnnnnnnnd – finally we see Quinn. ;) Glad you guys are enjoying, you'll see this story get stronger as we go along because this was my first 1st person perspective story and if you're reading QoW, you can see the dramatic growth in just three years. You never stop growing… you know?

Another note… if this story interests everyone enough, it might need a rewrite like L&L got… just saying.

* * *

Chapter 3

I'm late. The traffic of the gnarled Southern California freeway is unparalleled in my mind as it spreads out before me. Anxiety is rushing me, making my stomach tie in knots. To alleviate it I tap my fingers against the steering wheel as I roll to a stop behind a truck. He is pumping his break to his music, making the vehicle jump back and forth in its spot. The bumper sticker on the back of it says 'Coexist' in religious symbols. I laugh because all I can do is think about punching him in the face.

After I realize the freeway isn't moving I snap the radio on, hoping that I'll catch a traffic report on one of the preprogrammed stations I have set up on the dash. I flip between them, and stop for a moment as Journey hums through the speakers, filling the car. I almost feel compelled to open my mouth and sing, but I stop myself short. What would be the point?

I'm already miserable enough.

I curb my masochistic desire and change it to talk radio right as the stereo warbles the tones of a pending _traffic on the 9's_ report. I focus hard on the clock and I can't believe it is already 7:19.

**Let's take it over to Jenny Harmon in the Sky Blue helicopter.**

I'm listening, nervously biting my lip and tasting lipstick as I move forward a few feet before stopping again beneath an enormous overpass. The pigeons are looking down at me and I silently threaten them not to ruin my freshly washed paint.

**Hi Rick, it's a mess out there. A sig alert has been issued for the 5 freeway South bound at Jamboree Road.  
We have a three car accident and the back up goes ten miles back, to State College Boulevard.**

I glance at the signs before me, even though I already know I got on the freeway right at State College. I sigh. Cutting off the rest of her report I change stations and stop on jazz. There are no words in it, so I feel a modicum of safety in listening. I wonder if I should call my boss and let her know I'll be late. Then I remember the new employee orientation at 7:40. I groan. I hate siphoning through new executives. And it never looks good to be late to your own ass kicking party.

I should get promoted for the work I put in, I muse absently. As an Operations Specialist all I do is put out fires. It is a thankless job which makes sense because the only applause I ever hear anymore is when I dream about singing. I push the thoughts away again, refusing to go through another emotional trial this morning. And yet, try as I might I can still feel the thickness at the back of my throat and the snap of my vocal chords so many years before.

I sigh and lean against the door as I move forward again, inching closer to my new stage, Trinity Cosmetics. After what feels like an eternity, I'm moving at a speed that registers on the speedometer and I can call off my plan to contact work and let them know I'll be late.

I pull into the parking lot and find the closest spot to the front door with literally two minutes to spare. I shut the car off, grab my keys and laptop, and run for my upstairs office. _Don't be late_, _no one be waiting_, my mind chants over and over as I rise the stairs and slip past a row of cubicles.

"Rachel, you got a minute?" John Friedman asks as I brush past him in the hall. He follows me toward my office.

"Yeah, come with me." I busily rush through unlocking my office.

I know I need pull myself together before the meeting, but I just don't seem to care enough as I slide my laptop case and keys across my desk and grab the phone receiver. I punch my boss's extension as the clock changes. It rings through.

"Right on time Rachel, like always." She announces. "Which conference room are we showing the new meat into?"

I hold up a finger to John asking him for a minute more as I pull my thoughts together. "I think the Bronze Room will work." I run a hand through my short hair, pulling it into order. "Give me three and I'll be there. I have someone in my office right now."

As much as I hate doing this, I love it at the same time. I don't really feel that I have as much fear factor as people seem to give me credit for because I'm not even tall enough to reach the middle shelves in the kitchen. How I strike fear into the hearts of people is a mystery to me. Everyone who knows me knows I'm all bark and no bite anyway.

But the fact that I do frighten people on occasion gives me validation. It gives me a foothold and a handhold to cling to in the wreckage of my life.

"What's up John?" I ask as I unpack my computer case, tossing file folders and sales projections into a stack at the edge. I'll have to figure out the forecasts after the meeting because procurement needs it before 10. My mind is whirling and I know I'm being rude to the man in my doorway, but business is business.

"Well, I was wondering if we could talk about my annual review." He waits to see how I will react, so I don't. I fix my eyes on my files.

"Go on." I offer as I pull my keys into my hand and finally raise my eyes to his. I can tell he is off balance. I feel badly because I don't want that. My whole department is built on trust and open communication. "I'm sorry." I correct my actions. It isn't fair that I'm angry and frazzled and taking it out on a very valuable employee. "You and I should meet later so we can really hammer out the details. I know you are disappointed and I need to communicate why I scored your productivity the way I did so that we are both on the same page."

I stand straighter, lifting me to all of 5 feet 6 inches with my high heeled shoes. "I'll be in a conference until 8:45 and then I need an hour to get the morning sales projections out, but after that I'm free. Can we meet back at…" I look at my watch and shift the silver looping links to cut the glare of the lights. "10:00?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

The Bronze Room is the biggest and most opulent conference room we have at Trinity Cosmetics. It began as a bit of a joke to bring new people in here, but the intimidation factor did a world of good in splitting the wheat from the chaff. We actually had some people who didn't come back after the initial plunge into the ice water of our corporate environment. I'm thinking about dunking people and laughing a little as I enter the conference room.

This is the only remnant of my past as a performer. I still have one hell of a stage presence. I gather myself up as eyes turn to regard me and I swear I can hear someone gulp. It makes me feel powerful, but puzzled all at the same time. This is my only solace. This is why I do what I do.

"Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen." I'm sure to project and pin as many faces as I can as the uncomfortable silence spreads around the room. "My name is Rachel Arlington and I will be speaking with you today regarding the opportunities at Trinity Cosmetics."

"As a cutting edge cosmetics and wellness company our goal is to provide the best products for women all around the world." These words are automatic now. I don't even believe what I'm saying, but once an actress, always one. "We are in a state of high competition within our market and due to the riding demand and faltering economy we will only take the best executive team made available to us."

"I make no illusion; many of you will not cut it." I always like saying that line and I let it hang in the air. There is something finite about it. I like to think that it makes the competitive spirit rise up.

The lights dim and I'm smiling in bemusement at the stunned and nervous expressions. I can see the flicker of the projector firing up behind the audience and it pins through the darkness spreading an image across the wall behind me.

While I slide to the side of the room I make eye contact with Marci, my boss. She loves when I speak in these things too. She calls me her "perfect blend of barely veiled coldness." I feel like a Starbucks coffee every time she says it.

My eyes wander taking in the faces of the people sitting in the conference room. I already know who will make it through the two week acquisition training. I can smell the leather of the seats as I discard person after person, it makes me feel calm. Then there is a moment when I feel my pulse quicken, and I can barely believe my eyes. I see the expression of study I had endured for four years flash across the woman's face as she stares at the projection.

Quinn fucking Fabray.

And all at once I'm unsettled. My stomach cramps as anxiety floods me. I go blank on my thoughts as I regard her alert hazel eyes. When they turn to me I feel a wash of something pass through me. I don't really remember if we were friends or enemies at the close of high school and for a moment I wonder what will happen next.

She smiles, oblivious to the panic she is eliciting from me. The warning bells are chiming, screaming for my attention; yet, in contrast to who I pretend to be in this world, I smile a little too.

I feel like an idiot because it hurts my cheeks and all at once I'm seventeen again in argyle and sweaters instead of a navy suit and pumps. I realize that other people are looking at me too so I turn away and stride toward the thrumming power of my peers as they emit dangerous energy.

"Who is that?" Marci whispers, there is innuendo in her voice and I wave it off. "Someone you know well?"

"Someone I used to know in high school."

"She's cute." Marci is a raging lesbian and she cocks her head to regard the blonde seated ten feet away. I imagine she is drooling a little. "I might have to steal her out from under you."

I grimace at her words. "Really, you can have her." I arch an eyebrow, putting on my best no-nonsense face. "I don't even think we were friends really."

Marci laughs and the sound almost penetrates above the volume of the company orientation video. "Please, a smile like that." She pins me with her eyes and I'm left feeling queasy again. "If not friends, then what?"

I don't have an answer, but I remember that this is my turf and gather myself as the lights come on. I resume my place at the front of the room to continue my intimidating speech. Quinn doesn't budge from her smile, and I'm left remembering why I couldn't stand her. She was so confident that she could get everything she wanted. I am careful to avoid her eyes as I speak. They unnerve me with familiarity and something unknown.

They make me feel weak, and no one should be able to do that to me, not here.

Not in the only place I have value left.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: A few questions to answer.

(a) SophieK - Yep, I'm a Southern California girl too. :)

(a) Caitlin2009 - It's actually an interesting story, but I'll let Rachel tell it to you... ;)

(a)Bugsy1014 - All your questions will be answered, but to address a couple: I think for the most part Quinn is out, but probably doesn't really feel like she needs to say anything because everyone can go to hell in a hand basket. Right now this story has 23 chapters, but some are really short, so I might combine a few. (This was two chapters). They do get longer, which is good.

So this is my last update of the Originals for the night - now I'm off to finish this earth shattering chapter in QoW. Enjoy, my friends.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

I'm pressing the double doors of the conference room wide and the flood of people follow me out. I'm the first to head up the stairs because I feel claustrophobic in a group when I'm flanked. I'm certain these feelings come from the manifestation that people were supposed to be at my feet while I performed on stage.

I wipe the thoughts away as a form finds its way into my hands at the top of the stairs and I'm focusing on it. "What is this?" I ask for no other reason than to look busy as I feel Quinn slide by me. I think she wants to say something so I focus hard on the letter 'S' in 'Requisition' until it makes my head hurt.

"It's a requisition for resources to be shifted to the Dallas branch in Texas. The IT guys over there need the okay to pull bandwidth from our servers." Scott is one of my best friend's here at Trinity. He has this boyish charm that lights up my day. Right now though, as I look up at him, I can tell he is just as annoyed as I'm suddenly feeling.

"Tell them no. You're the head of IT out here." Okay, it's childish, and I know it. We are all one company, but our sister office in Dallas is starting to grate on me as they steal more of our resources.

I know it is a delicate balance. The power we still hold here as the California economy crumbles around us is meager at best. Prices are rising and companies are failing, but try as I might I can't find room in my heart to allow them to gain control.

Scott walks with me toward my office and I'm happy to leave Quinn behind me as Celine, another Operations Specialist, gives them a tour of the building. I don't have to look back to know her eyes are on me. And I'm strutting before I can even realize it. Anything I can do to feel more superior to the blonde.

"Rach, you know I would love to tell them no, but we just aren't using all the resources." Scott is continuing as we slide up a row of cubicles and files are passed to me from my employees. More to add to my pile. I'm thanking them automatically as I spin the wheels in my head trying to figure out what to do.

As I approach my office I see a flash of color against the bland walls and at first I think someone in a floral shirt is sitting at my desk. "What the heck?" I'm whispering as suddenly I'm staring at a bouquet of wildflowers.

"Oh wow, someone likes you." Scott laughs. "You must have made your husband really happy."

I shake my head in surprise, not really able to comprehend the magnitude of the sudden jungle rising up from the side of my desk. "Wow." Is all I can manage to say.

"There's a card even." Scott grabs it and opens it up. I think it's funny just how comfortable he is with me. "It says, miss you." He laughs and hands it over. "Isn't that cute?"

"Yeah it is." I haven't gotten flowers in a long time, so I really don't remember what I'm supposed to do, or how I'm supposed to feel. I just stare at them, measuring the color and the magnitude. It makes me feel embarrassed for a second beside my friend. I'm not much into public displays like this. Which is probably why I haven't gotten flowers in a long time, I reason.

I tuck the card away in the envelope and try to pull the thoughts that escaped me. "Um, okay." I'm off balance and to try and recapture some of my calm, I heft the vase and move the arrangement to the credenza against the window. I put my back to it because honestly I don't think it was my husband who sent them. "What were we talking about?"

"Dallas stealing our stuff."

"Oh right." I grumble and sit down trying to push my urge to check my email away. I hope it's who I think it is. I miss her, too.

"Oh right, what?" Scott is asking, and I can't formulate a coherent thought. "Wow, you are frazzled."

"Shut up." I deadpan because he is right and I'm embarrassed.

"Okay, well. You have to tell me later what you're so twitter-pated about." He lingers at the open doorway. "I'm gonna have to give them the servers, unfortunately."

"I know." I'm already clicking on the keys, logging into my computer. "It sucks, but what are we going to do?"

"I was hoping you could come up with something." He says seriously, and I feel a weight shift from his shoulders to mine. I look up at him.

"What am I supposed to do?" I hold my hands out before me. "I'm in charge of financial operations, not sales, not infrastructure, nothing." I sigh realizing that the heads of those departments are too dumb to do anything or know any better… "Fine. Try and keep them at bay until Friday and I'll see if I can come up with something by then." I smile a little as his face brightens. "I'll say I need to audit the last thirty years of income statements and procurement invoices."

I remember I need to finish the reports before my one-on-one meeting at ten. I glance at the clock, 9:24. Crap.

Scott laughs. "Okay, go get to work. You just got all panicked."

"Yeah, you just think you know me so well." I'm staring at the computer screen before he leaves and in the peripheral of my vision he waves and closes the door. I wait a moment until I'm sure he is gone and not going to come back in and say something silly.

Once alone, I'm able to log into my personal email account. I type in my password with expectancy rumbling in my stomach. I hope there is an email waiting for me. And I'm pleasantly pleased to see two.

My hands are shaking as I click the oldest, sent at 10:54 the night before. I wait anxiously for the email to populate on the screen as my eyes drift to the flowers. I'm smiling like an idiot as the email pops.

_Hi Rachel (Starberry),_

_I was thinking about you today, wondering where you have been. I know you are busy, but I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you and missing you terribly. I'll be honest and be the first to talk about this: I'm a little worried at your silence. Ever since our… sexy conversation, I have felt off balance and nervous. I keep thinking about the things we said, the ways we would touch one another, and I'm just breathless in anticipation for another chance to talk to you like that again. I really do care about you._

_I know how stupid that sounds, because you don't know me and I don't really know you. But, God! You wreck me. Even if that was a one time thing, I'm wrecked by you. I know I have no right to be jealous of your husband, but he doesn't know how good he has it. I hope he appreciates you as much as I do._

_Always,_

_Foxfire_

_Ps. I think your name is beautiful._

I'm shaking. I can feel it as I read the email again. I'm blushing too, my face is hot. I know how wrong it is, but it feels so good to be wanted and admired and missed. I look at the flowers again as I click the next email.

_Hey Rachel – hope you like the flowers._

I want to write a response, but I can't. I feel my fingers on the keys but they won't depress and create the words swirling around in my head. I just sit there and my heart hammers as my eyes go over the words again and again.

I don't know her name, but she makes me tremble. I'm petrified of the way I feel sitting at my desk and reading the email over and over. My mind flashes on the night before, the images, the wants and desires I can't voice out loud. I feel like I'm drowning.

I close the email without answer, knowing the read receipt is being sent to her email somewhere in the world. She is going to need a response soon because the last thing I want to do is continue to torture her with my silence. It isn't that I'm uncomfortable; it is that I know that I'm in over my head. I should have never divulged so much. My email, my work, my name… The swatches of color in my office make things too real. It makes it so real that somehow I can almost believe that I spent the night rolling around in bed with a woman I want to fall in love with.

I hang my head and stare at the report before me. My eyes won't focus as I struggle to see something other than the scripted sexual words in my mind. They make me breathe hard just thinking about it.

I tell myself to shake out of this, that I have work to do. So I stand up and bring the report with me, hoping that motion will settle my thoughts. It helps a little as I focus on the manila folder in my hands. I will write the email later, I promise myself. I just need to get through a few things first.

* * *

I'm somehow able to get the forecasts to procurement right as the clock turns 9:57.

I can hear my stomach grumbling so I reach under my desk to the mini fridge hidden there. It had cost me a case of Yoohoo's and tickets to a Los Angeles Galaxy soccer game to keep it. Not a bad trade in my opinion seeing as food had a way of going missing in the break room refrigerators.

I pull free a plastic bottle of icy cold soy milk and shake it. I strip the cap off as I stare absently at my computer screen. A darting group of fish flash on my screen saver and I watch the lazy patterns. I know I should feel guilty about what I'm doing with Foxfire, but really – I don't. What I feel is a multitude of other emotions, many of which I have trouble voicing to myself.

Fear? Hope? Excitement? Those are the easy ones. Those are the normal ones. I lower my gaze to the keyboard tracing the crisscross pattern of 'Foxfire' on my keyboard. I take a sip of soy hoping it will settle my stomach.

It is the not normal ones that make me feel a little crazy. Things like loyalty, need and freedom rise up without warning and catch me. The barrage of those being the most bizarre emotional welling I have ever felt. They're things I don't ever remember feeling in my life and I don't know if it is because of the distance and anonymity, or the sheer fact that I married the wrong person. I swallow hesitantly.

The knock on the door makes me jump. I set the milk down. "Hey John, come in."

He drags himself in and takes up position in the guest chairs across the desk from me. He is a young guy and like so many young guys, I think I make him nervous. I don't mean to, I'm not a mean person, but there is something in the way I command presence and attention that makes some people feel like they are looking too closely. John's eyes are glancing around the room, trying to avoid the picture of me and my husband. Richards big burly athletic frame is very intimidating to more than just me.

"So," I begin, "Talk to me."

I can see he really doesn't want to. "I'm just confused about why I got a three percent bonus instead of a seven." He twists his hands before me anxiously. "I mean I don't want to questions your judgment, but I feel like I deserved the higher bonus."

It sometimes hurts to hear words like this, and this moment isn't any exception. I know he is questioning my decision and because my job is the only thing I feel confident about, his words rattle me. "Well, let me get my file."

He winces. They always wince when I get the files. I hope that they know it is the only way I can keep it straight in my head what everyone is doing. I pull free his folder and I flip open the cover. "So between June 2009 and last month you have…" I flip through to the dates. "You have run an audit of the sales team's bonus structure, and you have worked on…" I count the number of files he has submitted for completion. "Twenty two case files."

"Yeah, but it was twenty two only because I did the tax audit while Marci was out of town, and helped Paulo with the President Circle thing."

I didn't know about that. "Did you put it on your productivity reports?"

He gave me a regretful look. "No."

I smile to take the edge out of my words. "How am I supposed to know these things if you don't tell me?"

He smiles too, just a little. "Aren't you psychic?"

"Yes, but not for this type of thing." I notate the extra projects down on the front of the annual review I just completed the week before. "I'll reevaluate and see what I can do, okay John?"

"Yeah, thanks." He doesn't get up. "I wanted you to know that my wife Dora, she's expecting."

He didn't have to tell me, it is Human Resources that approves the time off. "Well thank you for telling me, congratulations. Just be sure to speak with HR when you need the time off."

He shakes his head. "No, I didn't want to request time off; I wanted to invite you to the baby shower in a couple months."

I don't really know what to say. I don't go out much. I wonder if Richard would be okay with it… "Well, thank you so much!" I try to sound thrilled, but the idea of having to go out and get in trouble or fight takes the fun out of it. "Get me the details and I'll see if I'm around."

"Okay I will." He stands then, and smiles. "Thank you for being a good boss."

It moves me to hear those words from my people. It has been a very long road and those are the little rewards I'm earning now. "Thank you for making me look like I'm good at it."

I spend a lot of time alone; I'm alone at home, alone in my office, alone everywhere. I look over at my computer again as the silence fills my office. I know I have things to do, things I should be doing, but I can't focus. There is only one place where I don't feel alone.

I open my email again and click reply. I stare at the cursor, not really able to pull at a single thought. Instead I just start typing, my fingers flying over the keys faster than the words can get through my head. I don't want to stop until I have nothing more to say.

_Hi Foxfire,_

_The flowers are magnificent; they are half the size of my desk. Do you think that if I put them between me and the door people won't come in to bother me and I can just sit here and talk to you all day?_

_I really miss talking to you too, but I'm not sure if we should do that again. I mean I don't feel guilty, but I do. I don't know what I feel to be honest. I think I am supposed to say that I don't want to do that again, but I do. I feel badly that I do, does that make sense?_

_But in saying that to you, please don't stop. I really mean it; I don't want you to stop. I think if you did that the whole world would come crashing down around me and I would be left completely empty. When you're making me confused and warm and happy I'm immune to the life I live. Even if our conversations are only contained on a computer, it makes my life better and more complete._

I reread the message and roll my eyes. Melodramatic as ever, just like me. I feel the urge to add more, so I do.

_And you wreck me too. I've never had anyone make me feel like you make me feel. I think that if you ever really did touch me the way you said you would, you would shatter me to pieces._

Maybe I shouldn't say that. Maybe it is too much. Maybe it is too close to the truth. I just stare at the solemn nakedness in the words. I sign the email before I can change my mind and hit send.

Then the anxiety begins. I normally don't care what people think of me, but when there are people I like, or care about they seem to be able to slip through the chain links in my armor. I worry about their judgment. Foxfire is one of those people, so I feel vulnerable and wait.

I am humming in anticipation fifteen minutes later when the light knock on my door startles me from my position by the window. I look over and see the face I wanted to avoid the whole day.

It's Quinn and when she eases into my office with a cool air of precision she is so different from the woman I used to know that it is like night and day. She looks the same, a little older maybe, a little more professional in her crisp pants and a flowing blouse, but it is the way that she carries herself that is so dramatically different. She isn't as intimidating or as brash and brisk in her movements as she used to be. She has an almost contentment as she sits down and smiles at me.

I absently wonder if she doesn't scare me because I have grown up since we last met. "Hey Rachel, long time…"

"Yeah, it has been." Again I'm struggling to remember if we were ever really friends. I had so few friends and such a confused muddle of emotions; I don't remember clearly who I was actually close to or not. I can't believe that I used to be so socially inept.

"So, this is where you have been?" Again she has that perplexing smile. "I would have expected you on Broadway."

I hate when I meet people again that I knew before. This conversation always comes up. "No, maybe another life." I leave it at that. I don't want to talk any more about it and I'm left feeling empty. "So…" It isn't that I like the sound of my own voice; it's that I don't like the silence. It is something I'll never be able to get past. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm looking for a new job. I moved to Los Angeles about four months ago and I started working at this little company. It was fun, but I need a challenge."

I feel a little more relaxed as she let's me divert her from her initial topic. I notice her eyes are staring at the flowers and I follow her gaze. "Yeah, gift." I laugh a little. "Big gift."

"Must be from a big fan."

The way she says it is so neutral, so… I try to grasp for the meaning, ambiguous. I just glance at my toes and then sit down at my desk. I'm a little annoyed as I firm into my spot and fold my hands in my lap. I don't like the way she said it or the smile on her face. It feels almost mocking or prideful or some other emotion we are taught not to have as children.

"They are very pretty though." She turns to me her smile faltering a little as she stares at me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything that upset you."

"You didn't." I edge instantly, defensively. I don't know what it is about her that makes me so off-put. I rationalize that she is at least trying to be friendly. "I'm just in a mood today."

"Understandable." Quinn supplies. She absently spreads her hands along her pant legs, easing out the wrinkles from her seated position.

"I'm intrigued." And I am. Why would she say that? "Why do you say that?" I parrot my thoughts.

She brushes a hand through her hair, a nervous motion if I ever saw one. "Well, who wants to babysit a bunch of new people and still manage a department."

No one really. She's right, but I'm trying to not be annoyed as she points it out as she sits in my office and talks to me. All I want to do is check my email and plow through the piles on my desk. I think it's terrible that I have an old acquaintance in my office and all I can do is think of an online illicit romance. I sigh to myself. "It isn't so bad." I force the words and I can tell that she knows I don't mean it.

She is able to confirm my suspicions a moment later, "You don't mean that. I should get out of your hair."

And all at once as she is rising up I feel terrible because now I'm the high school bully who is bitterly pushing someone aside. The moniker is heavy around my heart and I stand up too. "No, I'm sorry." I laugh. "I'm not in my right mind. I am just so sorry, can we try this again?" I hold out my hand. "Hi, I'm **still** Rachel, how are you?"

Quinn laughs and it is an easy, soft thing that tickles my nose like champagne. She takes my hand and shakes it firmly, not too hard, not too soft. There isn't a wrangling of power, no bitchy look and I'm happy to try and erase our patchwork past. "And I'm **still** Quinn."

"But not bitchy."

She's still laughing a little as she continues to shake my hand. "Right, not bitchy."

As we part I feel more at ease and almost want to sit back down and talk, but another knock draws my attention as the office door opens. I feel like this place is turning into Grand Central Station. Marci comes in and gives Quinn the once over. This time it bothers me a little, purely because it is so obvious that Quinn looks away.

"Rachel." Marci oozes. "Looks like your old frienemy found you. Isn't that lovely?"

"Yeah, its good." I smile gently trying to settle the apple cart Marci just knocked into. "We were just catching up. What's going on?"

"Well, I need a few brave souls to work on something for me, you're team are those people." Marci turns to Quinn. "I have heard good things about you. Care to hop into this project?"

I look over at my boss and then over to Quinn. The blonde answers. "I would love the opportunity."

"Okay, I'll put the requisition in for your SAR and get you a spot on the floor. I'll have someone bring the files over." Marci stands and shakes Quinn's hand. "Welcome to the Arlington team."

"Who is that?" Quinn asks belatedly and I point to my chest as Marci exits the room leaving us alone again.

"Oh, congrats." She is staring at my wedding ring and I move my hand to break the view. "Wow, sorry I was staring. I just can't believe it."

"Well, everyone has to grow up." I say quickly as the courier comes over with boxes of files, I realize the scope of the project is more than I had ever hoped for. It solves my problem for Scott too. "Welcome to the team by the way, it's going to be a crazy ride." She follows my gaze and watches the boxes stack outside the office with a dazed look.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: And here is Rachel's reveal…

Chapter 5

The slow tick of the clock above my head is irritating. Its past five and I can feel a building nervousness in my gut. My cell phone vibrates against my thigh where I'm holding it in my hand. I lift it up, not really wanting to read the next text.

**When are you coming home?**

I don't know why I read threat in the words. It is an ingrained response. I have been yelled at so much I just don't know how else to feel. I tap out a quick response.

_I'm sorry, soon, I promise._

I stand at the front of the conference room my team and I have taken over. It is a large space, dwarfed somewhat by the twenty boxes and ten bodies that fill the room. I realize as I look at them and the clear exhaustion stamped on their face that I will be catering many meals in this room to keep up morale.

My phone alerts me again, spitting gyrations in my hand.

**What the hell are you doing?**

_I'm working._

**Just leave! You're salaried so you're not even getting paid right now.**

_I can't leave my team._

**Fine we will talk about it when you get home.**

_Okay._

I lift my head from the exchange as a rock of dread weighs down my stomach. I lean back against the wall to steady myself, people are talking and I pick up only little bits of the information.

"That just doesn't make sense."

"This is Accounting fucking things up again."

"Whatever, they couldn't find their ass with a map and both hands."

It makes me laugh despite myself. It draws attention to me. "Okay enough." I point over at the quiet figures in the very back of the room. One of them is Quinn. Her head is bent as she pours through file after file. "What do you guys have back there?"

I move forward, circling the table and take up a seat beside John. He turns to me, "This is really bad. How long did Marci say we had to sort this out?"

"A couple weeks?" I ease and I feel the knots untie in my guts as I focus on the spreadsheets on the table top. It does look bad, years and years of missing entries. Money not collected for services and products. Money over collected, over allocated; it's a nightmare. I summon a rueful smile at the faces around me. "At least we have each other. How do you guys feel about Chinese?"

There is a grumbling in the air and then resigned silence. "Okay, we will get it done."

They always do and that is all that matters in the end.

My phone summons me from my next directive and I absently call out. "Hey, someone call the Jasmine Garden and get the usual!" I'm using one hand to click on my text and the other to wrangle free my company Visa. I put the card on the table as the text pops.

**Get home now.**

I'm too busy to deal with Richard.

_I can't, I'm really busy._

Tori takes my card, and leaves the conference room. I put my phone on the table face down and direct my attention to the files. Even though I want to turn it off, I don't. I don't know why. I feel like if I do something awful will happen, so I just pray he doesn't message me again.

"So, I guess we can split it up between all of us." I'm thinking about the head count, there is nine of us and then Quinn. I glance at her as she stares at my phone. I realize its buzzing and I leave it to sit and rumble the table dully.

"Quinn?" She snaps her head at me. Her face is calm and a little confused. "Do you think you can trial-by-fire learn the systems we have here?"

She looks horrified. I assume that means 'no'. "Wait like the tax generator, the backend data entry, the DOS research platform and the accounting software?"

When she says it like that I feel bad I even asked. I just laugh and so do a few others. "Sorry, yeah let's just have you doing manual calculations instead." I arch an eyebrow in jest. "Can you handle a calculator?"

To her credit she looks around and laughs. "With the expertise you all have, probably not. I'd need a manual and a workshop."

I find it funny in that second, as those words leave her mouth, that this was someone I never got along with. The self-deprecating vulnerability is charming and I can see from my subordinates that they feel the same way I do. She has just solidified herself as a part of the team and if she has the brains to back it up, she has solidified her hiring as well.

I think again that she always gets what she wants, but I don't feel the same malice as I did this morning. I'm almost happy about it.

What a difference a day can make.

I remember my phone as it yells in muted anger at me. I pick it up.

**Home… NOW.**

**Answer me**

**COME HOME NOW!**

I'm angry now and I can feel my face start to flush as the walls close in. I can hear his angry voice in the messages and it's like an angry dog nipping at my heels. My body floods with anxiety, making me nauseated. I stand up to air out the emotion rampaging through me.

_I can't. I have an important project and I only have a couple weeks to finish it._

**I don't care.**

And I know that is the truth. I know people are watching me as I become aware that I'm pacing.

"Time to go?" John whispers and I look up at him. I'm chewing my lip like a child and I let it go so I don't feel so weak and girly and pathetic. I can't believe this is my life. I drop my eyes.

"No." I edge and as I'm setting down the phone it buzzes again. I don't want to see the next message, but I can't stop my fingers as they click on the little window.

**NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW**

**NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW**

**NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW**

**NOW WNOW NOW NOW WNO**

**NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW**

I look at the message with a mix of incredulity and fear. It scares me. They typos in Richard's normally succinct writing give glare to anger that actually physically moves me toward the door.

I'm making excuses. "John, please hold onto my card till tomorrow when Tori gets back. I have an emergency and I need to head out." I don't look up; I can't. I grab the doorknob blindly and as I'm closing the door I hear his whisper to someone, most likely Quinn.

"She does that a lot."

I'm mortified. I'm so angry I could tear myself apart. I hate myself. I drop my phone into my bag when I get back to my office after I fire off a quick text letting him know I'm coming home. I can't believe the power those small typed words have over me.

I shut the light off and lock the office. I need to go to the bathroom, but I'm too scared to stay any longer. I feel the hammer of every passing moment, ticking on and on, baiting me. Tormenting me. I can't believe what I'm doing and how bad it looks. It's bad to my managers, my team, to Quinn.

That last part hurts the most as I walk outside into the balmy Southern California evening. I'm more embarrassed that she has to know my faults than the whole rest of the room. I reason it's because I would like to pretend for at least one more day that I'm superhuman and perfect. I get to the car and slide inside the thick hot interior. It's almost as stifling as the weight of my world on my shoulders.

I roll the engine over quickly and back out of the space. I'm on autopilot, having driven this route so many times. I'm on the freeway, the lights bright in my rearview mirror. I don't turn on the radio or the air, I just sit and sweat. I'm so afraid and I know it isn't right. I'm smart enough to know that. The thought punctuates my mind.

I know better.

I know it isn't supposed to be like this. I can't stop though. I can't let go. It is like heroine, like air, the dramatic all encompassing misery.

I see the green sign of my off ramp coming up and I'm filled with dread replacing the sorrow. I steer off the swooping three lane exit, wishing I could accelerate into the centrifugal force and fly away at the bottom. Instead I come to a stop at a red light. I hear my cell phone rattling against my sunglasses and a pack of cigarettes I kept hidden in a secret pocket.

I don't want to know what it says and I'm saved from grabbing it by the light turning green. I just drive. Drive down State College Blvd, make a right onto Chapman Avenue, and a quick left on Orangewood. I'm pulling into the apartment building's underground parking when the next text comes. It feels like Lucifer is at my back, pitchfork ready to kabob me.

I turn into my parking spot, right beside Richard's SUV. The mammoth vehicle is oppressive beside my Camry; the little white car and big blue vehicle a perfect composite of my husband and I. I can feel my hands shaking as I drag myself up to our third floor apartment.

I stand outside the door swallowing, panicking, feeling for all the world like I want to run away, but I'm stupid and I don't. And I hate myself again. If I was smarter I wouldn't deserve this. The thought lingers as I test the knob and it opens.

Its dark inside and that always scares me. The bright exterior lights of the complex blind me and I think Richard knows that. It makes it hard to see and that only increases my apprehension as I enter the apartment and set down my laptop case. I stand back up. I want to call out and see where he is, but I don't want him to find me. I move away from the door. "Hello?" I push past my fear, pulling at a well deep inside that screams for me to grow up and deal with the consequences of my decisions.

I should just do what he says.

"When I tell you to come home, I mean it."

His words are so soft and venomous that it makes the hair on my arms and neck stand on end. Even my forehead prickles right along my hairline and I turn to the kitchen where he emerges to stare at me.

"I wanted to, but I couldn't today."

"Yes, you can. You're the manager of that department. Don't tell me your boss was still there."

I want to lie to defend my position, but I can't. "No, she wasn't." He glowers at me and I inwardly flinch. From where I am, fifteen feet away and I can see his hands vibrating with anger. I'm frozen in place. "Please," I plead. "Please, understand that I have to lead by example or everything I say to those people doesn't matter."

"Really?" He is laughing a little at me and it makes me angry. It makes me angry enough to actually say what I'm thinking.

"Don't laugh at me. My job means something to me and this family."

He is in my face like a rocket, his eyes wild and angry. I don't have time to react except to put my arms up in front of me. He doesn't touch me. He never does, but I can see it writhing below the surface, the animal barely chained behind a crumbling mask of misplaced chivalry. "I gave up my job for you!" He yells. His thick finger is in my face pointing his angry words into my lips. "I had to quit my job while you were in the hospital falling apart over some broken dream!"

I recoil. It always comes back to this. This broken pathetic lousy excuse. "You did not sacrifice your job because of my voice!"

Richard is grinning because he can see in my face that he is hurting me. I know that he likes it- that he likes to see he has this power to make me hurt. I'm almost immune to it now, but not _quite_ yet. "Yes I did. I sat in that hospital with you while they pumped your lungs. So what if they ruined your voice! Just because of that one stupid thing you gave up and made me a victim instead."

I can't believe it, I won't believe it. That this man that sleeps next to me can say such hurtful things. Call my loss, my maiming – stupid. I can feel the rage building, a wild crazy angry rage that makes me want to hit him, makes me want to claw his face off. "How dare you make that about you? I was the one that got sick! It wasn't my fault that you had to be there while they saved me… and frankly I wish you wouldn't have been!" He gets even closer and the thick scars on the back of my throat make speaking harder. It always happens when I'm upset, the torn vocal chords and throat swelling up with the words I can't get out. "I was the one that lost the most important thing it the world to me! I was the one that was stolen from!"

"You are such a good little convincing victim." And in the truest most blatant evocation of condescension, he pats my cheek like a child. I feel the color drain to my toes as I stare at his mouth. It is all moving in slow motion as his white teeth cut behind his full lips. "You weren't going to be famous anyway, so where is the loss?"

And I don't hear anything after that. I don't hear the words, I see his mouth moving as he goes in for an even bigger kill, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't understand that the moment I found out the intubation tube had severed my vocal chord and stolen my voice forever; I was a different person. I was an empty person.

He moves past me, still yelling and slams the apartment door behind him.

He doesn't understand.

No, I correct myself, he doesn't care. And that is the worst part of all.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: A little bit of Starberry/Foxfire fun in this chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 6

I don't drink much, but in times like this I do. That is the worst time to drink- when you're depressed. And I am, and it makes me angry. I know I'll get caught in a vicious cycle of anger and depression until I wake up with a hangover. My mind drifts back to the seven year old memory of almost dying, and then dying figuratively. There is nothing quite like dry drowning as your own lung's hemorrhage. It was the worst feeling I had ever felt.

Well, aside from the one upon waking. The crash of knowing that everything I had ever done in my life had been taken in an instant. I would have rather died. I still think I did.

I'm locked in the bedroom, with a fifth of scotch and my laptop. I swirl the liquid around in the glass as I stare at my MSN instant messenger. It's blank and lonely. It offers to send and offline email message to Firefox, but I can't bring myself to do it.

I just click back to my Starberry account and open the email response I received this afternoon. I can tell it is rushed and I appreciate the effort, but wish there was something more in it. And I feel let down again despite my best efforts at rationale.

_Starberry,_

_I'll have to catch you later tonight, but I appreciate your honesty. I'm glad you liked the flowers._

_Always,_

_Foxfire_

I take another sip of the scotch; the bland burning flavor makes me salivate. And I'm waiting. I'm not a patience person, so waiting is hard. I'm tired and I want to go to bed, but I want to talk to Foxfire. I need to. She is the only one that makes me feel better about my life and my world.

I stare at the door, nervous for Richard to come home. I know he will leave me alone, but just the thought of seeing him makes my skin prickle. My phone buzzes and I ignore it for a moment, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I pick it up. It's Richard. I click the message open.

**Going to stay at Tim's tonight.**

For an inexplicable reason I'm upset even though it is the best thing I have ever heard. I don't know if I'm angrier over him being with his friends, or because he doesn't even have the balls to come home and apologize. I feel my face screw up in frustration as I make five even types on my phone.

_Good._

I hit send and finally turn off my cell. Almost at the same time, my laptop chimes and all my anger washes away as I see the little green box by Firefox's name. It is like all the excitement from every holiday wrapped into one as the instant message box pops up on my screen.

_Foxfire: Hey._

I abandon my drink and pull the laptop closer to me and sit it on my legs.

_Starberry: Hi._

I smile a little and move closer to the screen.

_Foxfire: How was your day?_

_Starberry: Let's avoid that subject. Your flowers were certainly the highlight._

_Foxfire: Well I'm happy that I got them for you then. I hope that wasn't too forward. I feel bad that we couldn't snuggle after Sunday night's conversation… so I figured flowers would be like scented hugs for you._

_Starberry: Scented hugs?_

I'm giggling like a maniac.

_Foxfire: Yeah. Right after I typed that I realized how lame it was._

_Starberry: No, it was phenomenal. Better than anything in the world. Thank you._

_Foxfire: So tell me, what exactly did you mean in your email when you said (and I quote), "I think that if you ever really did touch me the way you said you would, you would shatter me to pieces"?_

I'm blushing as I read it and I feel thundering in my chest. I don't know how to answer, so I just wait breathlessly for the thoughts to come to me. Eventually I realize I have to pawn the feeling off on the collective whole of womankind.

_Starberry: I think I just would fall apart because it sounds so good and so amazing that there is no way it could ever happen in reality. If it did I think it might kill any woman._

_Foxfire: okay, lol!_

_Starberry: Don't laugh at me. I'm serious. Richard would never touch me like that._

_Foxfire: Ahh. How is good old Dick doing?_

_Starberry: Living up to his namesake._

_Foxfire: Oh… I'm sorry to hear that. I thought he was being better…_

_Starberry: Well, it is always a fleeting thing with him. I don't know who he is anymore, but who knows if I ever really did._

_Foxfire: Do you think it could be a little bit of you changing too? Not that I want to toot my own horn or anything, but maybe a little bit of it is that you have seen a different option and now you are viewing things differently._

_Starberry: I hate how perceptive you are._

And I really do as I think about it. After high school Richard was the only person that I dated as an adult. I went through the motions and married him after a two year courting period. I really didn't know any different or any better and Foxfire was right. I just assumed we were normal, just like our friends that we used to visit.

_Foxfire: You still there?_

I direct my eyes to the computer and frown in silent apology.

_Starberry: Yes, I'm so sorry. I was thinking about what you said and, yes it is possible. The idea that I have lived this life as and acceptable situation and now I find complaint because I imagine a different life is incredibly unsettling._

_Foxfire: It is for me too._

The idea of collective pain between the two of us opens my wounds wide and I feel the squeeze of my chest. I don't want to cry at my computer, it makes me feel so stupid, but I can't really stop it as it breaks me down. I wipe my eyes. I know that it isn't pity; I know it is something more, but I can't help but feel my demons penetrate me for a moment and I'm asking the question before I can stop myself.

_Starberry: Your feelings aren't based on pity, are they?_

I wait anxiously for a response. The laptop is hot on my legs and I change how it is sitting as I lean back against my pillows. I balance it as I try to stack them behind me in a comfortable position. When I look back at the screen there is still no response. It makes me doubt my modicum of confidence. Finally a message pops up with a chime on my computer.

_Foxfire: No, it isn't about pity Rachel. It is about the remorse and pain that I feel for the situation you find yourself in. It hurts my heart to imagine that this person that I find so dynamic (and if I may be so bold) my friend, my confidant, my little Starberry – is being broken by someone. I feel powerless to help, powerless to protect you. And I want to do that, protect you I mean._

I feel the breath sucked out of my lungs as I read the message over and over and over. It makes me feel like I have that freedom again, that a hand is being extended out to me. I want to reach out and take it, but I can't.

_Starberry: That was amazingly kind. I wish I knew your name so I could address you properly._

She doesn't respond immediately and I stare at the screen. I do want to know her name. I don't care if it's boring or unique. It will be perfect. No matter what.

_Foxfire: It's Allyson. Ally…_

I grin, but I know that isn't her name. It took too long to answer for that to be it.

_Starberry: I like that._

_Foxfire: Me too._

_Starberry: Well, Ally, I wish you could protect me._

_Foxfire: I wish I could too._

Suddenly I feel the rush of excitement and I wade a little further out into the waters.

_Starberry: Tell me more about what you look like… Leave no detail untouched upon._

I wait with baited breath, but the response comes too quickly to be compliance with my request.

_Foxfire: Umm… like what do you want to know?_

_Starberry: I don't know. Just tell me something I don't know so I can imagine you better._

_Foxfire: Why are you imagining me?_

I can hear the coyness in the typed words and it makes me smile.

_Starberry: You know why._

And then I blush as the words hang in the chat box. I feel like I'm flirting with disaster and the rush is amazing. It's this newness and excitement that penetrates my chest and leaves me sputtering for air.

_Foxfire: I wear size seven and a half shoes? I have a tattoo on my hip? Is that what you mean?_

I'm laughing a little thinking about it.

_Starberry: What is your tattoo of? Please don't say a butterfly or I might have to kill you._

_Foxfire: Why would you kill me if it's a butterfly? That seems like very dramatic emotions for a little butterfly to create._

_Starberry: Because that whole, "I'm-so-girly-check-out-my-butterfly-tat" is really overplayed._

_Foxfire: Ouch. It isn't, it's a star… but wow, what if it had been a butterfly?_

_Starberry: Then I would have kissed the pain away that my words caused you._

I have said it before I realize it and I figuratively open that door. It makes me hum with anticipation at the response.

_Foxfire: Where would you kiss me?_

And Allyson pushes it wider and I feel like I might implode under the pressure of deciding where to do it. I pick a part and run with it.

_Starberry: Your neck._

_Foxfire: It would make me shiver._

_Starberry: I know. And I would like it._

Suddenly I'm swimming as I lean back a little further on the bed, feeling my heart begin to pound.

_Foxfire: I would have to return the favor… on your lips. And run my tongue along your teeth and then in your mouth._

I purse my lips and blow out air, as my shoulders suddenly ache and all I want to do is lay back a little further. I slide down and flatten my laptop, letting it sit vertically on my hips against my bent thighs. I can feel my hands start shaking as I type out my response.

_Starberry: I would moan against your lips and wrap my arms around you, feeling your skin through your shirt._

_Foxfire: I would feel tingles as your hands move over my back. I'd press my body to yours, molding your curves to mine. Tracing lazy swooping patterns over your shoulders and up through your hair._

The image makes my skin prickle and chills rake across me. I can almost feel soft hands on my back and I lull my head against the pillows holding the images. I glance down at the screen and type with my eyes closed. I need her to give this to me and I hope she does.

_Starberry: I'd press you toward my bed, pulling at your clothing, kissing your jaw. I'd pull your earlobe in my mouth and graze my teeth against it. I want to control you, and I push you down, smothering you in my lips from above._

_Foxfire: I'd let you have what you need, pulling you against me, firming every inch of you against me so I can feel your heat and your power. I'd be so wet and ready for you because all I want to do is surrender to you._

My heart flutters in my chest as I read it. It is so arousing I get a little lightheaded. I have to take a breath and I get up, dimly aware of how turned on I have become. That thick throbbing pressure has built between my legs and my knees are rubber as I set the laptop on the nightstand and wobble to the bathroom.

I splash cold water on my face and watch the drops drip down the bride of my nose. I can't lie to myself; this desire is exactly what I wanted. I pat my face dry and stare at my all knowing expression. I want to get lost tonight. I'm back at the computer, reading her continued response.

_Foxfire: I'd grind my hips against you, raking my nails softly over your exposed skin, baiting you to come claim me._

_Starberry: I would pin your head to the bed by your hair and kiss your lips, grinding against you, trailing my hands and mouth down your neck and chest. Run my tongue over your nipples and nip you gently while my fingers and palm sliding over your other breast._

_Foxfire: Um… wow. That was hot._

I smile even wider because the real woman is responding to me. It makes me feel a building of excitement and I feel emotion pulling in my chest.

_Starberry: Did it do anything for you?_

_Foxfire: Of course it did._

_Starberry: What did it do?_

_Foxfire: It made me wet, made my muscles clench wishing I could feel you in me._

I choke on nothing in my rush to get air into my lungs. "Oh wow, whew." I'm whispering to myself and I check the bedroom door to be sure it is locked. It is.

_Starberry: Are you touching yourself?_

Cause it is all I want to do.

_Foxfire: Not yet, but I want to. I want to orgasm thinking about you controlling me. I like women who are powerful. It is so addictive._

_Starberry: I'm not powerful though. I'm just a poser at work and a weakling at home._

_Foxfire: I promise you, you are anything but. And I would love to be your slave in the bedroom. So at least there you could have all the power you want. From our conversations I know you haven't been able to take the lead and I know you need that. Just promise me that when I beg you for something… you give it to me without too much torture._

_Starberry: I will._

_Foxfire: Good._

I teeter on the edge of wanting to ask her if she would let me do certain things to her, but I'm nervous and afraid to. I want to know the truth, but the illusion of the fantasy is amazing. I stare at the screen debating.

_Starberry: Can I ask you something personal?_

_Foxfire: I think we are past the point of asking for permission, but go ahead._

_Starberry: Do you like the idea of a strap on being used on you?_

I hold my breath, feeling it burn in my chest.

_Foxfire: Not normally._

And I'm disappointed because it is the only fantasy I have ever had that drags me to a place I can't touch normally. It is something I find so enthralling I can't think straight. I have been on the receiving end for so long that I know it is taken for granted to have that power over someone. I wish I could do it, just once. To conquer this woman in that way and make the images in my mind go away. When I look back up at the screen I feel my body tighten up.

_Foxfire: I would try it with you though; I imagine it would be amazing to be that vulnerable in your arms. To feel you over me and inside me, stretching me open to you. Kissing my mouth and holding me in your arms._

I'm blinded by desire and need and it manifests in broken breath and my eyes tearing again. I cover my face, swallowing rapidly to try and ease the lump in my throat. I wish she was here. I wish I could be saved from my life. Her words do more than just pull at my libido; they make me feel things in my heart that I can't voice. I try and grab at the emotion so she knows how I feel.

_Starberry: I don't know how or why, but I'm crying. I imagine it is because I want to experience what it feels like to be in my husband's position, but be able to make you me feel good instead of terrible._

_Foxfire: I understand, and I'm sorry you're crying. I would love to wipe your tears away. You know, it is a really vulnerable position to be the 'receiver' in that situation. Especially with a strap on because you have to completely trust the person to read your body because they can't actually 'feel' it, you know? At least I assume it would be. I haven't done it before. I never knew anyone I trusted enough._

_Starberry: But you would let me?_

_Foxfire: I'd want you to, so I could shatter in your arms, similar to how you said you would in mine, you know… in your email. Does that sentence make sense?_

_Starberry: I don't even care, I get it. And thank you._

It was such a meager thing to say in light of what she was offering. I wanted to give her so much more, and say so much more. So I just said the only thing I could think of.

_Starberry: I wish you were here_

_Foxfire: I could be._

My heart shoots into my throat as I read those words.

_Starberry: Really?_

_Foxfire: Yes. I'm about 40 minutes away in Corona._

I can feel my heart hammering and yet all the blood in my body is draining to my feet. This person… this woman that I care about so much it hurts is so close I could see her.

Tonight…

I want to say yes. I want to grab my stuff and just leave. I can imagine myself falling asleep on her sofa and feeling safe. A sanctuary for me in my broken world. I can almost feel soft feminine arms around me, holding me, caressing me… and then my mind freezes.

I'm not a cheater. I might be a liar, but that is easier to live with than being a cheater. And really, if I care about her so much, why would I make her the side cart, when I want her to be the actual motorcycle I ride. I laugh at the horrible analogy. But the essence is there. If she is this close, and this real and wonderful, how could I subjugate her to anyone else?

_Starberry: No. I want to be with you, but that wouldn't be right. I mean how could I ever have respect for myself or for you or for anyone if I did that?_

_Foxfire: I really wish you weren't so damn moral sometimes, but I understand. And I admire you for your fortitude. In all honesty, I would have been in the car right now if the roles were reversed._

_Starberry: Can I have something else?_

_Foxfire: Anything._

_Starberry: Can I call you?_

The silence stretches for a while and I suddenly panic. What if this woman isn't a woman? I flex my hands over the keyboard as I reason that would be impossible.

_Foxfire: 951-274-5020_

_Starberry: Okay, give me a minute._

_Foxfire: okay._

I abandon my laptop unceremoniously, on the floor beside the bed, setting it down a little too hard in my gusto to grab my phone. I turn the phone on and wait for it to power to life. I can feel fluttering in my stomach as the bars inch up across the Verizon loading screen.

Finally it comes to life and I dial the number. I hover my finger over the send button and make promises to myself.

No matter what, I won't cheat.

No matter what her voice sounds like, I'll like it.

No matter what we say tonight I won't drive over there.

I had to make that promise twice because I'm already half way through justifying my actions when I hit the send button. I don't feel badly at all as it rings, a tin sounding buzz in my ear.

I'm standing in the middle of my bedroom when she picks up the phone. I hear a cough or two and a soft whisper comes through the phone. "Hello?"

I'm stuck and words won't come through my throat. She sounds sick and my immediate response to comfort her is so strong it stalls the breath in my lungs. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry I'm sick." Her voice is very husky and warm, perhaps a little strained. She coughs again for effect.

"It's okay. Hi Ally."

"Hi, Rachel." For a second I swear she says my name with the same singsong of people who have known me forever. It is a familiarity and it warms me over.

"It's so nice to hear your voice."

"What's left of it right now?" She coughs again. "In a week or so you'll hear the **real** me."

And I can't wait as I curl up in bed and pull the blankets over me. I stare at the clock, 9:39. "Do you have enough voice to talk for a while?'

"Yes." I can hear her smile. "I would like that very much."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I'm nervous and I swallow it down, willing my breathing to steady. I find comfort in the volumes of blankets around me and my soft pillows. I can feel my hands shaking as I hold the phone to my ear. It feels good to have my heart thunder in my chest. To be this elated, this excited about something, isn't lost on me. It is rare in my life now to feel the prickle of thrill.

"So…" I drawl softly, taking a deep breath as I burrow deeper in the blankets. "Hi." I smile as a soft laugh comes through the phone.

"Hi yourself." Ally goes quiet, and I imagine she must feel the same way I do. Before I'm able to voice my thoughts, she breezes a soft apology. "I'm sorry you had a rough day." Her whispers punctuate my reality and I close my eyes listening to her sweet purr in my ear. "Anything else happen today?"

"I ran into someone I used to know."

"Oh yeah? Who was that?"

I imagine her lying beside me and I pull my body pillow into my arms. I let the phone rest against my ear so it feels like her voice is coming from the protection of my arms. "A girl I used to know from high school. As my boss put it, she was my Frienemy." I can hear her beside me as she takes a soft breath. I listen intently as she shifts around. "Getting more comfortable?"

"Yeah." I hear her settle and cough lightly. "So why so hesitant toward this woman, was it a love/hate relationship kinda thing?"

"Yes." I try and think back. We weren't friends necessarily, just ambivalently tolerant of each other after the hostility faded sophomore year. "Is it actually kind of convoluted because we weren't actually anything- friend or foe, just tolerant of one another I guess would be the best way to put it?"

"That's funny." Ally whispers. "I bet she feels differently."

I smile at the warmth I hear in the words. "Why is that?"

She laughs softly, rumbling the butterflies in my stomach. "Because I don't think anyone could just be tolerant of you. You seem more like someone that everyone could fall in love with."

I feel the flush rolling from my toes and covering me in a rush of glittering happiness. "That is sweet of you to say." I want to tease that she could fall in love with me, but I have a feeling that would mess everything up.

"No, just the truth."

I let those balming words hang over me, covering me in gentle warmth. I wish they were true, but even the people that profess love and commitment to me, levy a burdensome pain against my heart. "So…"

Ally interjects, "Don't like the silence?"

I'm unnerved. "No, I don't."

"Why?"

It's a hard question with a harder answer. It leads to a long story I don't think my mouth can tell. I stare at the pillow beside me, following the creases with my eyes. "I don't understand silence."

"It isn't a bad thing, you know?"

"It is scary because I used to fill it with music and now I can't."

She doesn't say anything, as if she knows there is a story here that pains me. And the thundering of the silence urges me on. "I used to sing. I was okay." I know I was more than okay, but saying so hurts me more than downplaying what I lost.

Ally even seemed to want to refute my claim, but after taking a breath she stops. "And?" Her prod works on me until I can speak again.

"And, well, I went camping – it was raining. And I got sick."

"With what?"

"Pneumonia, well both bronchitis and pneumonia."

"That's awful." Is all she breezes through the phone. I can hear her breathing evenly and despite the fact it is early still, it calms me and lulls me into a state of semi-sleep.

However, I'm awake enough that I keep talking. "So, I couldn't breathe and just kept coughing until I ended up rupturing something. Eventually it got so bad that I couldn't lie down because of the weight of fluid in my lungs, so I went to the hospital."

Ally let's go a shaking breath, "I'm so sorry Rachel. I assume that is where everything happened?"

"Yes, they had to intubate me and I guess they nicked or tore my vocal chord in their excitement to keep me alive, but," I bite down on the thoughts. "Whatever, what's done is done and there is no undoing it."

And there is silence again, and I really don't know how to feel. I listen for anything and I can feel my eyes bouncing around before me in the dark as I search. "Hello?" I look at the phone.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I just… I-um…" And I become very aware of the sadness in her voice.

"It's okay." My intention wasn't to earn pity or sorrow, but it seems to always be a byproduct of this story.

"No, it really isn't." She sounds more angry than upset now. "Where the hell was Richard during all this?"

"With me." I remember back to those times when we were young and engaged. And I was blind to everything going on because I would have followed him into hell. I smile ruefully, because I think I might have- given the life I'm living now.

"And why the hell didn't he insist you go to the doctor, you know, before it got that bad?"

"We were young and I was stupid." I defend halfheartedly. "I'm sure things would be different now."

"Yes, they will be because if you so much as breathe funny I'm coming over and dragging you to my doctor."

I laugh as the tension eases out of me. It is nice and sweet and charming how she warms me over with her words. I squeeze my pillow tighter and close my eyes. "Since you know my worst moment, what was yours?"

"I don't know." Ally skips out on the question. "I'll have to think about it."

"Okay." I yearn to feel a reciprocal connection, but the moment passes as we lay in silence.

"Where are you?" She burrs softly in my ear.

"I'm in my bed, where are you?"

"Same."

I smile lazily. "What side do you sleep on? This is very important." I joke.

"Ooh pressure." She laughs as the moments drag out. "The left if you're standing at the foot of the bed."

"Good. I'm on the right."

"Thank god because I didn't want to have to switch, I need my left side on the edge when I'm on my stomach."

I grin picturing it. "Its funny how people get into those habits." I wonder if I should read off part of my warning label. "I have the bad habit of stealing blankets and then getting hot and tossing them off."

Ally doesn't seem phased, "Eh, I get hot and kick them off, then wake up cold and pull them on so it works."

"Are you kidding?" Because that arrangement is just too perfect to be real.

"Yes, but for you I'll do it." She laughs, "For like three months probably before I get tired of it and start keeping a spare blanket by the bed or something."

I hope it's funny when I say it. "Your back up blanket?"

Ally smiles, "Yeah, to go with my dreams of a different life." And I can feel the melancholy in her words. She's thinking what I'm thinking as I hear that tone. I want her and not the life I have, but that fleeting all too real emotion passes, easing the death grip on my heart.

"Hey." I grab her attention. "Don't be sad." I struggle to say what I want to. "If it's meant to be, it will happen. Until then I just want to enjoy you."

"Okay." She offers and I know it hurts more than she will admit. She has nothing holding her back from claiming me- except me. Her heart is in this and as much as I can give is as well, but it is one sided, and I know it isn't fair. I'm too selfish to stop though.

"Tell me something about you."

"Like what?"

"Like anything?" I probe gently, displacing the silence on her shoulders as it drags on.

"Like what though, give me a topic."

I sigh. "How about I just make it easy..." I think, "Candles or fireplaces?"

Ally laughs softly and I find I like making her laugh. She coughs retreating the soft mezzo-soprano sound into the shadows of her sickness. "It depends on the situation, but candles I think."

"Me too." I whisper, imagining a room full of shimmering light and how good it would feel to be in it with her.

"Cookies or ice cream?" She asks, and my thoughts just get more sexual as my body wakes up a little.

I clear my throat against the images scaling behind my closed eyes, her breath pouring over me like warm water. "Cookies, I'm vegan. Unless it's sherbet or Italian ice."

"And of those?"

"Strawberry Sherbet."

"Is that where Starberry comes from?"

I laugh. "No, it is my old aspiration of becoming a star and my maiden name, Berry."

"Ah, I see."

"Lake or Ocean?"

"Lake." She replies immediately. "You?"

"Ocean." I smile. "Sorry kiddo we're through."

Ally doesn't miss a beat. "I'll take you wet in any liquid you want."

I wade a little further into the waters of the unknown, guided by my misplaced arousal. "Morning or evening sex?"

I hear her breath catch a little, "Umm… that's a conversation changer." She swallows audibly and I feel the thread of exhilaration weave through me.

"Liar, you started it." I joke. "Answer the question."

"Both?"

"Above or under?" I don't have to preface further.

"Do you have that strap on, on?" She laughs, "Weird sentence..."

I choke on my rush to get air into my lungs. "Answer my question, cheater." I'm grinning and humming as I fully awaken from the peaceful warmth our talk had put me in.

"I would want to start off on top first to control the pace and then finish under you while you own me."

My heart hiccups in my chest at the imagining of it and I struggle to not audibly sigh at the thoughts in my head.

"Truth or Dare."

I blink as I remember the game and wonder what type of trouble I can get myself into. I giggle. "Dare."

She coughs but this time it is to cover the shock her next words carry, "I would have picked you as a truth kinda girl. I was all ready with my question."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"It isn't a disappointment, believe me. It just speeds up my plan." She takes a moment to collect herself. "I dare you to touch yourself."

I play coy. "Where?"

"Where do you think…?" She lets the words hang.

"For how long?" I ask for clarification as I roll to my back and slip my right hand down my body. I'm listening to her breath as my fingertips thread through the looping tie at my waist and I pull it untied to have more room.

"Ten seconds?" She offers. "What are you doing?"

"I'm untying my shorts." I slip my hand underneath, sliding it down between my thighs as I spread them apart. "Ten seconds you said?" I clarify as my finger twitches with anticipation.

"Yeah." She is so breathy I feel my body tighten up. "Tell me what you're doing."

"I'm," I clear my throat of the sudden huskiness. "I'm tracing my clit." And all my muscles turn to jelly as I do, legs trembling against the electricity that shoots through me. I release my appreciation in a gentle moan.

"Oh Jesus, Rachel." I hear whispered back hurriedly. "Oh my god, don't stop."

I pause my motions. "I thought you said ten seconds." I arch my eyebrow though no one can see my scheming expression and shit eating grin. "Aren't we at like seven already?"

"I don't care," I hear a tremble in her voice. "I really don't, just keep going."

"I don't think so cause we are playing a game." I begrudgingly stop, my fingers falling still against the pounding nerves. I heave a breath. "That was a lot harder to stop doing than I thought."

"Oh God! I hate you." Ally cries in agony. "That was amazing sounding."

"I'm glad you liked it." I artfully joke. I retreat my hand back and heave a breath. "So now it's my turn; truth or dare?"

"Dare."

I wonder if I should return the favor. I know that is what she wants. I close my eyes so that I can focus on listening. "Ally, I want you to slide your fingers inside yourself, so I can hear you moan."

And I'm shocked by how effortless it was to say that. I am equally shocked at the whine that drifts to my ears and lights every nerve in my body like a matchstick against a friction starter. "What are you doing?" I whisper, robbed of tone as it becomes just wheezing breath.

"I'm tracing down my body," Her voice breaks further, "Over my breasts." I swallow. "Down over my abdomen." She is playing with me and I love it. Turn about is fair play, after all.

"I'm tracing down between my lips." She sighs and I can just imagine the image of it. It makes me throb harder and I breathe through my nose to keep me from making a sound. I don't want to miss a thing. "So wet." And I can't take it anymore as I'm touching myself again listening to her.

Patience has never been my strong suit. "Keep going." I urge as I swear I can see her about to enter herself.

"Are you?" She doesn't finish.

"Yes." I let go a shaking breath and she responds with one of her own.

"Say when you want me to, I want to pace with you."

I can't even think or breathe. "Please, go." I swallow as I listen to her warm soft sigh and then a more throaty moan as she slides her fingers in. I feel all my muscles tighten. It is so sexy, so sensual. I swear my chest is going to explode for the sudden rush of emotion I feel. She quiets, her breath heavy.

"Now what baby?"

And calling me baby is about the hottest thing I have ever heard. "Set the pace. I'll follow you." I'm trembling as I hear her breath hitch and I know she is sliding out and a soft cry as she slides in. It tugs at my abdomen, sending waves of pleasure through me. And I'm following her agonizingly slow pace, getting just enough stimulation to drive me fucking crazy.

"Go faster." I plead softly.

"You go faster; I'm listening to your breath." Ally replies, her voice warm and sultry. "I can hardly stand this. You feel so good."

I about scream as I open my mouth to reply. "So do you." I pick up the pace, moving in tight circles and I can hear the rapid breath in time with my own. I don't even care if she is doing what I imagine she is doing. I'm getting so close everything aches. "I am getting there."

She moans her pleasure and it burns against my ear. "Oh god, Rachel. Oh, my, god, Rachel." I can hear the vibration of her motions through the phone and I roll my eyes closed and cry out.

So close. Right at the edge. I'm threatening to fall apart. "Are you going to come?" I ask as just saying the words threaten to send me over.

"Not like this, I don't think I can." She whispers. "But it feels so good."

"Rub yourself because I want you to come with me."

Ally swallows audibly. "You had better be close because if I do that, I'm not gonna last twenty seconds."

I smile. "Don't you worry sweetheart. I'll get there."

And I do, exactly fifteen seconds after stating it. Her orgasm in my ear does it, pressing me over the edge and making me jerk in bed. And I keep my eyes closed so I can hold the image in my mind of her with me as I listen to her spiral from the cliff in my ear. She whispers gently as she is pulled from the end of her climax. "God Rachel, can we do this every night?"

And I just want to say yes, forever.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The hazy light peaks from the window pulling me from my sleep. I squint at it, cursing it as my head throbs at the motion. I shade my eyes and hazard a glance at the clock. 5:56am. Four more minutes…

I close my eyes and become aware of steady breathing near me. I lift my head, headache forgotten, and then realize the sound is coming from my phone. We fell asleep on the phone?

I pick up the cell, sitting beside where my head was resting and stare at it. 448 minutes and a few odd seconds tick away. Seven hours together. It makes my heart race. "Baby?" I whisper. I scoot toward the far edge of the bed, and shut my alarm off.

"Hmmm?" A sleepy reply warbles through. She murmurs something, sounding so much better than she did the night before. I close my eyes, hoping to hear her actual voice come through.

"Good morning, baby." I coax again, hopefully pulling her from her dreams gently. I hear her smile as her breathing changes. I learned that last night. I learned a lot of little things last night.

"Good morning, Rachel." She yawns through it and then clears her throat. "Sorry for yawning, hey there." And she is congested again. I frown.

"I thought you might be feeling better." I'm dejected.

A laugh. "Believe me, I couldn't feel any better than I do right now." I hear her breath stop and a small sound comes through as she stretches long across her bed. I imagine running my fingers across her as she does it.

"Me too." It is an absent reply as I stare at the blank spot I had just imagined her in. It leaves me breathless in loss. "I have to go to work though."

"Yeah." Her voice fades. "Oh shit, I'm late." I hear her shuffle around and move in a flurry on the other end of the line. "Shit."

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I'll talk to you later, yeah?" I offer because I feel guilty for no apparent reason other than I feel like I should. I feel the muscles in my shoulders bunch with sudden tension.

Ally slows her motions. "You didn't do anything, so no need to apologize. Just have a good day for me. I'll email you."

"I'll miss you." And I say it before my brain can process it.

"I miss you already." She grins. "Talk to you later."

"You too."

The final click of the phone leaves me alone and I firm my eyes on the carpet. I dig my toes into the pile, worming little divots in the fibers. I feel like I should be guilty, but I'm not. I feel like I should be ashamed, but I can't be. I'm... I struggle to feel the emotion... content.

I smile a little, I'm happy.

I stand and stretch languidly, relishing the pull of my muscles, a little sore from long use. Like four orgasm use, I think as I grin and walk to the bathroom. I strut a little past the mirror measuring my naked body. It's the first time in a long time that I like the way I look and feel good about it. That isn't lost on me as I turn on the shower and wait for it to warm up.

I don't have the best self-esteem in the world. I freely admit that, but my criticisms about my body are far and away the harshest of all my inner insecurities. Case in point, my compulsive work out routines during my youth. And as I measure myself, I actually feel good about it. Ally said she likes curves and I turn a little to coarsely trace my hourglass outline with approval. I eventually meet my eyes and smile as the mirror begins to steam. I'm surprised by the confidence I see.

As I drive to work, or rather wait on the freeway, I'm struck by a thought that stops my rhythmic tapping on the steering wheel. I vaguely remember this numbing tingling excitement and recognize it for what it is: I feel like I'm falling in love. I swallow the giddy smile on my lips and replace it with a frown. A chastise myself for being so naive. What we share, Ally and I, doesn't really mean anything.

But the more I tell myself that, the less belief I have in my inner monologue. I tell myself that it's my hands touching me and because of that it doesn't mean anything. I tell myself that my moans are just as loud with my husband. I tell myself that I'm not in anyway emotionally invested.

But I know the truth and I have a hard time reasoning my way out of the fears that rush up and claim me. I don't fool around with people I don't care about. I know who I am, I know how I work. I don't sleep around, or rather I didn't, until her. Which means that it means something.

I change lanes to escape the implications.

And I dimly admit that she unlocks my heart with frightening ease. She unlocks the barriers I have fortified, allowing me to release in swirling orgasmic clarity. I'm comfortable for the first time in a long time, in my body and my heart, and the stupid sounds I make that I haven't shared for a while.

Not since Richard teased me and poked fun. I know that humor is just people's way of telling the truth without owning up to it. And really, who wants to be laughed at in the bedroom anyway.

As my thoughts turn to him, they sour and I hesitantly reach into my purse to check my phone. Its dead and thankfully I'm free of the impending doom of his constant barrage of irritants. At least I have the drive free, I chide myself. I have a charger at my office.

So I sit comfortably and turn on the music and relish the feel of my still tingling body. A reminder of the beautiful night I shared with someone I care about. Very much.

* * *

Two hours later I'm rolling my index finger over my mouse scroll watching the up and down twirl of my email list. I am hypnotized by the motion. My desk phone rings and I pick up quickly, but not before I hope its Ally calling, "Hello?"

"Hi Rachel." It takes me a second, but I realize it's Quinn and I frown.

"Hello. How are you this morning?" I ask cordially displacing my instinct to recoil at the blonde.

"I'm good, thanks." She pauses breathing. It reminds me of Ally and I turn away from my computer screen, staring at the wall. "I was wondering…" She is interrupted by a yawn. "I'm so sorry," She apologizes and begins again. "I wanted to show you some figures I have been working on. Do you have a moment?"

I shake my head from the images playing in my mind. "Sure."

"Okay great, thanks. Be there in a minute."

And she is, tapping lightly on the door to my office. It's open, but she politely waits until I look up and regard her. I watch her move in, wearing an attractive black pant suit and blazing blue fitted shirt. She carries several file folders. Quinn takes up the guest seat across from me and sets them down as if they weigh a thousand pounds.

"So, yeah." She breezes. "This is a pain."

I nod at the understatement. I pull the first folder toward me and in my peripheral vision I watch as she bites her lip. I flip the folder open. I'm surprised to find thin penciled numbers against the margins of each page. Her writing is neat and divided into cash flows in organized columns. I don't know why I'm so shocked, she has always been intelligent.

"This is really good work." I don't look up, but I feel her shift closer as I set the folder down and pull my accounting calculator over. I run over a few spot calculations and check the numbers.

"They're right, right?"

I frown, they are, but something doesn't seem right as I scan the page over and over again. "Yes, but…" I silence my thoughts because really I have to look at it more before I start talking out loud. "Yeah, they look good, just keep doing them like this and bring them to me."

"Okay I will." She is watching me as I move from folder to folder. It is strangely comfortable and I hesitate a glance up. Her light hazel eyes are even and regarding me. "I don't mean to stare." She whispers and it tugs at something inside me. There is intensity in her gaze I can't quite place and I forget the folder in my hands. Her whisper reminds me of last night.

"It's okay." I'm staring at her, measuring her. I feel like I should apologize as I hold the imprints of my conversation for far too long superimposed on my former enemies open warm eyes. "I'm sorry." I struggle to lower my gaze, but I can't I just continue to imprint the shift of her face as she smiles at me.

My ears whistle as my blood pressure skyrockets. I get dizzy, dry mouth, my pulse ribbing through my veins. She is really beautiful, and from this close I can smell the fabric softener of her clothing and the perfume she uses. It fills my nose and drowns me in her smell for a breathless moment.

That is, until the manila case file hits my lap with a firm slap that I realize it slipped out of my hands. In my haste to grab it I slam my knuckles against the desk, summoning a growl of frustration from my mouth.

"Are you okay?" She rushes, startled too.

"Yes, just ouch, that smarts." I look at the offending bones with disdain, rubbing color back into them. I don't want to look back up at Quinn as my emotions churn. "I'll right, I'll keep these files and look through them. Go ahead and start running the other numbers." I squeeze my fingers, trying to use the pressure to alleviate the pain. "Tori has a whole stack of files you can help her with."

"Are you sure you're okay?" She shifts closer and comes a breath from touching my hand. I can see her soft long fingers moving toward me and I bolt a little in my chair, pulling back in retreat.

"I'm fine, thank you." My tone is warning and cold. I can't help it. In this moment, I'm afraid of her open expression and the gentle compassion she exudes. I remember the supremacy in her attitude and the calculating gaze she always levied against me when we were younger. "I have to get back to work." Those images calm the fire in my guts.

"Okay, thanks for looking those over." She stands agonizingly slow before me. It feels like she is baiting me to change my mind and ask her to stay. I turn to my computer, dismissing her.

As she gets to the door I halt her motions with a word. "Fabray?"

She turns to me as I meet her gaze with pinpoint accuracy. "Yeah?"

"Close the door."

"Kay." She does, disappearing back to her cubicle.

I forget about my hand as I stare at the door. That was unexpected. I don't understand what my body is trying to say to me. I turn to the computer and stare at it. I understand how lonely I feel sometimes, but I shouldn't feel that way now. Not enough to think about Quinn Fabray that way. There isn't enough loneliness in the **world** to make me think of Quinn that way. I sigh and reorient on the files before me.

I measure them, using the sterile numbers to clear my mind and sooth my anxiety. Something just doesn't seem right, despite the accurate calculations and filled in omissions in Quinn's beautiful writing. I pause, beautiful writing? I roll my eyes and close the file.

Right before I get up to leave for lunch a knock on my door stops me. I half expect it to be Quinn, but it isn't as the door presses open and Scott comes bounding in. His tall frame folds against the wall just inside my office. He toes the door shut. "Okay so what the heck is going on?"

"With what?" I ask nonchalantly, regarding him coolly. He isn't swayed from the conversation.

"Um… hello. Flowers, frazzled, and not to mention you had **the** hair this morning."

"What hair?" I ask arching an eyebrow. I stuff down the desire to grab the mirror in my desk and look at myself.

"The I'm-on-the-prowl hair. You make the angles in your layers a little bit harder when you are feeling sassy." Scott clicks his tongue and winks at the expression I must have on my face. He turns scheming. "Or… are you doing it to cover up the just-been-fucked hair?"

"Please, that is nuts!" I reply defensively before I can stop myself and he knows in that moment that something is going on. I make a choking motion with my hands. "I hate you. You are such a brat. Don't you have something better to do?"

"Than torture you? No way. It is my favorite past time."

I sigh and rub my temples.

"Will Chinese loosen your lips?" He offers brightly and despite the interrogation I am going to go through, I nod. He is, after all, someone I might be able to talk to about this.

"Sure." I drag myself to my feet begrudgingly, "But you're buying, bucko."

I spend the car ride, the wait in line, the ordering and half the meal dodging the pointed and veiled attempts to get me to talk. I just can't seem to figure out what I'm supposed to say. I mean, it matters what my friends think about me – even more as a close coworker. I just smile and wink as I chew on my chow mein.

But Scott's always expressive blue eyes chide me to allow my secrets to come loose. I feel my resolve crack a little, and though I had every intention to enjoy lunch at his expense; I feel myself giving in.

"So," he changes direction in his probing, leaning across the table. "Are you pregnant? You are, aren't you? Oh! I'm so happy."

I sigh. "No, I'm not." And finally just say it. "I did something terrible."

"You? Please." He huffs as he snags a hug bite of chicken, chewing thoughtfully. "Did you hit a bird on the freeway or something?"

"No." I swallow against my fears. "I am falling in love with someone _else_."

I watch his face take in the inflection of my last word, and I know he is going to spin off the deep end. "Rachel! You can't be serious!" Scott explodes with a wild eyed barely contained zeal. I cover my face with my hands as I feel color rolling into it.

"Yes. I'm quite serious and I would appreciate it if you would shut the hell up." I growl through my palms as heads turn toward us.

He lowers his voice, but his shock is still evident as he stares at me- dumbfounded. "What about Richard though, I mean wow." He runs his hands through his short brown hair and boggles again. "My god, the poor guy is going to be wrecked."

"I shouldn't have done it, I know..." I regard the Chinese food before me and it makes me nauseated. It was wrong of me to do that, I know it, but it becomes real when I tell Scott. If I had never told anyone, maybe then it wouldn't matter, but now it is out there in the universe and I feel badly.

"What did you do?" He is immediately involved and animated. "Did you meet him somewhere and, you know…"

"No." I blush further. "It was over the phone."

"Skype?"

"What, no!" I shake my head. "I can't do that on a webcam…"

"Well, then it isn't cheating." He wags his eyebrows at me. "Though, falling in love you say?"

"Yes, and it is the emotional investment that makes it cheating." I press the noodles around the Styrofoam container absently. I'm a cheater… it is hard to process that new image of myself.

"What's his name?"

I steady myself. "_Her_ name is Allyson."

Scott's eyes bulge a little like he is choking on his lunch. I feel a moment of panic until he breathes again. "No shit."

"No shit." I reply awkwardly. He stares at me and I swear I can see him thinking about it or imagining it. I prickle a little.

"Wow, that's hot."

I sigh. "Focus Scotty before I kick you in the nuts."

He rallies to attention immediately. "So what are you going to do about Richard? I mean if you love someone else…"

"I don't know. Things have been bad for a while." I say it so effortlessly and I freeze up when I realize how serious I am. How easy the truth feels tumbling out of my mouth.

"You know," He begins, "all of us know what a domineering person he is. And it isn't fair to you." he takes a sip of ice tea and stares at me evenly. "I'm not condoning what you're doing because personally I think you should be divorced first, but..." He shrugs. "If you put a bird in a small cage for a long time, it will either die or fly away. I'm glad you're flying to be honest."

"Really?" I just want to hear it one more time, to erase the last little bit of guilt I feel. I'm smiling and he grins back.

"That smile," he points at me. "That smile is proof enough. I haven't seen that in a while." His words make me blush. "Did I mention it's a good smile?"

"You're making me super blushy, stop it." I squeal a little.

He grins bigger. "No, I really like it. Wanna make out before you go fully gay?"

A roll my eyes as he laughs.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I wave Scott off as he enters the building. He's still looking at me as he moves through the door.

I feel a little naked when people know how I feel. I figure it must be my fear of a power play. There is no sense in letting everyone have the manual on how to break down my armor. I spend so much time covering my emotions from Richard that I forget what it feels like to have an honest conversation with a man. And lunch had been honest, raw and scary in its implications. I wander back around the side of the building, over my allotted lunch time and not caring in the least. I just can't go back in yet.

I take up position at one of the rod iron tables that flank the side of the building. The hunter green umbrella flutters in the breeze. I wish that I could realign my life, go back a handful of years and redo everything. I muse on where I would be.

I would have invested money in the stock market and sold out in 2007. I would have taken the job at Apiore Fashion. I would have married someone else.

I fish out my cigarettes and feel around in my purse for my lighter as guilt slows my hands. I try to remember what it felt like to live a guiltless life, but I can't seem to remember. I snicker; it must be the Jew in me – classic Jewish guilt. I lift the lighter to the end of my cigarette and breathe deep.

I hold my breath, imagining the smoke swirling in my scarred lungs. I blow it out dramatically.

I would have married someone else.

I realize I mean it and it leaves me cold. I was so stupid. Was it the fact that he reminded me a little of my first boyfriend Finn? He had a goofy charm about him, and broad shoulders that I found comfort in. He made me laugh, made me smile, made me believe his epithets of love.

Fuck he played me so well… I hang my head as my stomach twists. I hate feeling like I'm twelve and out of my depth.

Even though I want to run screaming from him I feel guilty and I don't know if it is because I don't want to throw away the years we have been together, or I don't want to throw him away. There is a lot of shared history. There is water under the bridge and bridges across broken torn pieces. There was understanding, there was love – once, but the more I think about it I wonder how much was me pulling things together while everything was falling apart.

I ash beside me and watch the white flakes flutter away. I wish I could drift away on a breeze where nothing could hurt me or catch me. I take another chemical breath and stare at the shadow play on the ground.

And what a gamble it would be to leave Richard over a woman I don't really know. How stupid am I? What if I'm not actually attracted to her? What if it is a phase? What if Ally isn't who I think she is? I know she was lying about her name and the more I think about it the more I think she was lying about being sick. Those little small motions and moments are ballpeen hammers chipping at the fragile framework of my only hope.

Richard isn't a liar, if anything he is too honest for his own good – for my own good. Liars are a slippery slope, where you put confidence in them and they tend to change up like a bad pitch - striking you out at the plate. I laugh as I exhale another breath. Baseball analogies? Richard's doing. It annoys me that his presence has changed the way I think.

Which is stupid, I recognize. If you spend enough time with someone, you will invariably change and meld with them. I think that bothers me the most – I don't want to become a part of someone who upsets and hurts me so much. I would rather have that type of resonance with Ally. I imagine it would be fun to finish sentences with someone, snuggle again. Maybe paint someone's toe nails. I put my cigarette out as I wander back toward the double doors of Trinity Incorporated.

And then to make it worse Ally and I have only been talking for a few months. Four at most. It all started with little emails and occasional messages. Had I known then what I know now, knowing that those little snippets of thought would turn my world upside down, would I do it again?

I sigh. I would in a heartbeat.

That definitive stance shores up a little of my pain and I pull strength from it. I fish out my cell phone and dial Richard's number. I'm going to do it. I can't live a miserable life. I don't deserve it. He doesn't deserve to be in a loveless marriage either.

It rings twice and he picks up. "There you are." He sounds happy and I deflate a little. I leak guilt like blood from a bullet wound. His sweet breezy voice peppering my resolve with buck shot.

"Hey, Richard?" I ease before I lose my nerve.

"Yeah babe?"

"When I get home I want to talk to you."

I know he can hear the tone of my voice and he gets very quiet. "Okay. What do you wanna talk about?"

"I don't wanna say anything now."

"Then why did you call to tell me that." He sighs, "That isn't fair."

I roll my eyes. "I'll talk to you when I get home. It might be later than usual, I have work to do." I know this time he won't say anything, so I manipulate the conversation a little to my benefit. I want to hang up, but my closing words catch in my chest until I turn on my automatic 'wife-mode.' "I love you."

He perks up a little, "I love you too and I miss you."

I'm not even listening. "Miss you."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

And **damn it** that I can't say what I want to! I gnash my teeth together into a snarl as I enter the building and ignore everything and everyone as I pass them. Even Scott attempts to get my attention and I just hold up my finger, silencing him and stalling him in his place.

I roll into my office and drop my purse on the desk, closing my door behind me with barely bridled civility.

What is wrong with me?

Why are my emotions broken?

Why am I such a fucking weakling!

I feel my hands shaking as I predatorily circle my desk and lean on the high back of my chair. I squeeze the leather until my nails are white against the tan of my skin.

And the back and forth whiplash of my emotions rage behind my closed lips. I can feel the floor beneath my shoes, but I'm stretched to a new vantage point. I can see myself living my life from the same point of view of a child's doll house. My pretty little smiling dream of childhood fantasies spread out for me evaluate. They have the same brevity of emotional charge as playing with toys.

But it's my life.

I feel the tears start, but I awaken to where I am and stave them off. Not here, I tell myself. Not here. I swallow the emotion in an everlasting broken part of my stage presence. I remind myself I have a job to do and a mountain of responsibility before me.

I lay my gaze on Quinn's files and stare at them as a feeling comes over me. They don't balance. I shake my head. The numbers don't match up and that is what was bothering me.

I circle the chair and pull the top one over to me.

_Clark, C._

_Vice President, McCormick Goods, Inc._

I lift the cover sheet to review the requisition for goods and products. I blur down to the final line.

_Total Requisition of Goods and Services: $4,503,012.00_

I check the charge history that Quinn has filled in:

_Total Accounts Collected: $4,503,012.00_

It's stamped April 23rd. I puzzle over it as I close the cover. It matches. I feel a lilt of concern. I open the file again, brushing my bangs out of my face as I look down. I flip to the account history notes from the accounting department.

_May 15, 2010_

_Client called to authorize charge for order # 47001548/ accepted CC/ Debit posted for $10,542.48/ Account Clear -AP_

Wait, what?

I go back. The accounting didn't match. Too much charging was happening on this account. Why would the client have called to authorize a charge for something they had already paid for? And why was it missing from the totaling?

I pull another file, this one for Hall, Deidre. Same result. An additional charge posted to the account per the client. I drop my index finger on my speaker phone and the vacant tone strums through the room. I punch Quinn's extension after a quick search in the phone's database. She picks up almost instantly.

"Hello." Her voice is tired, and how I know that baffles me.

"Hey, can you come here and bring the files you're working on."

"Yeah, I think something is wrong with this. Nothing is matching up."

"I feel the same. See you in a minute." And she is gone.

* * *

At Trinity we have an inside joke. We call the company, Trifecta. I wish that I could take credit for that little play on words, but I can't. It started as a jib against the idea of the Holy Trinity, but it became representative of the absolute antithesis of what the company actually represents. There has always been a fly in the ointment that sours everything that happens here. That is the trifecta we refer to in meetings behind closed doors; however, this is the first time I have ever looked at that joke and seen it colored as a possibility. It unnerves me. I had meant to grab my files, but Quinn's knock startles me from my thoughts.

I beckon her in and she shuts the door behind her. Without moving from her place she fixes me with her eyes. "Rachel, I know I've only been here for two days, but I think something weird is going on."

Despite her matter-of-fact-tone, the way she says it shows how afraid she is I will lash out at her. She swallows, and I watch the skin move on her neck. I wonder if I had this same look when the rolls were reversed so many years ago. I realize I'm staring as the silence stretches between us.

"I'm not mad." I sigh pulling at my tattered leadership. "I'm a little embarrassed that no one else on my team has said anything." I feel bad by proxy that Quinn was one of the first people to catch this. Probably even before myself.

She seems to start breathing again and as always I'm struck by how different she is. There is still that essence of the take-no-prisoner attitude I used to know in her stance, but it is tempered and softer. Her eyes are the same verdant green and gold, but they don't pin like they used to when she was studying something. They… caress and coax the information away from their target.

Currently, I'm that target and they implore me to tell her what I think is happening. "Come, sit." I clear my throat as she does, sitting across from me and setting the files in her arms down. I glance at them and then back to her. "I'm gonna take a big risk telling you something, and I hope that you can keep it between us."

"I will." She whispers.

I still continue to preface my words since this IS Quinn Fabray. "This means you can't tell anyone that works here anything I'm about to tell you." She nods. "Quinn, really, you can't or you could cost me my job."

"I won't, but I don't want to force you to tell me something like that."

That's enough to convince me. "Okay." I exhale. "So." She leans in and I forget what I was going to say. "umm…" I blink away the proximity and lean back in my chair, "I started working here about six years ago and there was a rumor going around about the CEO and CFO having an affair. You know about the company name I'm sure."

"Yeah, John said it was really Trifecta, for sex, drugs and rock and roll or whatever." Quinn smiles as she jokes. I like the smile and laugh with her.

"Yes something like that, the variables change frequently. Last month when about five executives announced they were pregnant it became, sex, roofies and misused contraception." We laugh. And it is an easy warm thing that comforts me. "But, back six years ago there were rumors that the CEO and CFO were stealing money to travel together and take personal vacations calling them trainings, you know the corporate love story."

"I think every company has a story like that." Quinn guards, all humor gone. She measures me. "What came of it?"

"Back then I was just working at the call center, I was still finishing school, so I didn't really know what was happening, but eventually they fired everyone involved in the situation, up to and including the two C level managers."

Quinn nods, listening. She stares down at the top of my desk to the piles of files. "And now you think it was a mistake?"

"Yes. What if it was just a clerical error?" I wedge optimistically. I open the files I had been looking at earlier. "You see this total right here?" I spin the folder so she can look at it right-side up. "And this one, the money we have received is the same amount as the amount of products we have given to the customers. The extra charge could just be a back fill."

"Back fill?" Quinn asks shooting me a puzzled expression. "Like you had to notate the charge so they put it in after the account was closed?"

"Exactly." I don't sound or feel confident in my positive spin on things, especially with the way Quinn's light eyes narrow at me. And then I realize she said me, specifically. "What, me?"

"Yeah? The extra charge... seems more like they fired the wrong person, in my opinion. Which is part of why I wanted to talk to you…?"

"Why? Wait, why did you mention me?" I pin her with a direct gaze. I never remember Quinn being this roundabout, which further pushes on my nerves.

"Well, because of this." She pulls the top file out of the stack and hands it over to me. "I just didn't know what to think when I saw this." She opens it up and folds back the sheets to the notes page. "I didn't know if it was you or not, but here…"

I look down at it. In neat typed print is a notation.

_Client called to authorize charge for order # 46921185/ accepted CC/ Debit posted for $50,874.92/ Account Cleared -R Arlington_

I lay the folder down rather than allow it to slip out of my hands. "I'm not even authorized to allow for a charge that big to reconcile an account. I cap out at twenty thousand." I stare at my name on the sheet, feeling violated. And the more I think about it the more I find it necessary to put distance between myself and object of my concern. I stand up and walk to the plate window of my office. From the third floor, I can see the freeway and a roll of dark clouds coming from the ocean. I think I can hear Quinn talking, but I'm not sure.

Someone lied. Someone said, that **I** said, it was okay. Or maybe they didn't even do that. Maybe they just went and did it and then picked me as the fall guy. I watch the looming thunderhead lick lightening toward the ground, echoing my thoughts. Then I feel Quinn beside me and I look up at her a little.

She doesn't turn from the window. "I wondered why you would do that."

"I wouldn't." I repeat to her not really understanding her tone. "Why would you think I would do that?"

"I didn't, because that particular charge was outside the calendar year anyway, which is a huge IRS fraud issue." Quinn glances at me then and I feel a little threatened by the depth of her look. "People don't change the core values of who they are that much, so I knew that something was fucked up when I saw that."

I'm a little flattered and a lot upset in that moment, mostly because Quinn is right, and this person is sullying my good name. I have worked hard to not have my judgments questioned, and now someone is erasing all that work.

"I need to talk to someone." I rub the chills off my arms as a distant rumble of thunder rolls over us. "I don't know who to talk to."

"Who didn't benefit from the firing?"

My mind is slow to understand what she is saying. "What?"

"Who didn't get a promotion to fill the corporate ladder climb?"

I try and think. The new CEO and CFO moved from executive management positions, Marci moved from my position into her current one, I move up. "I don't know someone in a different department maybe, like IT or Marketing."

"Go to one of them. Maybe they can help you." Quinn smiles gently and it disarms me and smoothes the cracks in my world. "I will help any way I can."

I carry the folders toward Stacy's office and knock before I enter. She calls me forward and I slip in, closing the door behind me with a click. She's on the phone and she doesn't break the conversation, but her eyebrow shoots up at my armful of manila folders.

She is the head of the Marketing department by evidence of the print ads scattered all over her office. She moved to the company three years before from a position with the British Parliament in South Africa and had completely revolutionized our ad campaign. If anyone had sway it was her since she was earning the company a cool fifteen million per quarter just in new business.

I take a seat across from her and flip open the files in my arms. She is watching me and I catch her equally dark eyes panning over the items I'm holding. She pins me with a steeled gaze and I'm immediately caught off guard by the barely veiled apprehension in her eyes.

"Absolutely." She answers into the phone, not nearly as chirpy as her usual self.

I stare at the glass dolphins on her side panel. Beyond that I occupy myself tracing the rolling hill view from her executive office. Outside the thunder announces the rain a moment before the drops come, blurring the world outside the window.

"I will follow up with you tomorrow then." She hangs up her headset with a finite click and pulls it free from her ear. "Rachel."

"Stacy." I play back, quietly. "How are you?"

"Fine." She folds her hands in her lap and measures me. I sit up straighter and oddly my thoughts slip back to Quinn. I picture her face, full of respect for me and I use that look to put a little firmness in my jellyfish spine.

"I need you to look at something for me, if you have a moment?"

"I already know what you are going to show me." Stacy firms her hands on her desk and I can't stop the look of shock that assaults my face. She smiles thinly. "I know about the transactions."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" I hiss before I can stop myself. "I mean Stacy, I would have thought that you among everyone would have said something."

"We don't all have the ability to speak our mind." I know she is referencing her job and how precarious her position is. Despite the fact that our company provides wellness products for women, it is surprisingly backward in the realm of equal rights.

"But surely someone somewhere would object to these charges?"

Stacy waves off my inquiry. "You would be surprised what people will let go when their jobs depend on it."

"But Stacy…" I go to continue, but fall silent at the resigned expression on her face. "This is theft." I look down at the files trying to measure the sheer amount of it. "This is more than theft; this is grand theft – prison theft." I imagine getting raped in a shower stall. I grimace.

"I know Rachel." She pulls the files out of my hands with a sharp jerk. I snap back to reality. "And you will not say anything about this. The whole company is at stake."

"The company?" I actually feel a laugh bubble up in my throat and I can't stop it. "Are you kidding to me?"

"No. You make good wages, what sixty thousand a year? Do you really want to give that up?"

I feel my stomach drop. "Are you threatening me with my job?"

"No, just pointing out that you won't have one if this comes to light." She clenches her jaw and I can tell she hates what she is saying as much as I hate hearing it. "Not that we will be firing you, but the company will tank and correct me if I'm wrong but Richard isn't working is he?"

I flinch under the directness of her gaze. "No, he isn't."

"How will you survive then? I'm sure you don't want to go back to Ohio with your tail between your legs."

I'm dumbfounded. "Stacy, I thought we were friends. Why are you doing this?" I hear how meek I sound and I'm incensed.

If her words pained her I will never know because her face is cold as ice as she speaks. "We are, but I never mix business and personal matters together. And my work trumps my personal life, so…"

She lets the thought hang in the air. "So you want me to forget about this?"

"Yes. Just don't go looking for more than you have to and everything will be fine."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The rain is pouring, coming down in thick wind propelled sheets. It is a storm that rivals the ones I saw growing up in the Midwest. The rumble and rush of the water through the gutters outside the building put me on edge. I'm sitting at the conference room table, tapping my fingers soundlessly against the wood grain, listening as John and Tori whisper.

"It just blows my mind that all this is missing."

"Yeah right? Stupid accounting." Tori gets up and goes to the printer on the far side of the room, pulling a thick band of printed papers from the machine.

"I wanted to do that to take a break from calculating." John sighs and goes back to his work. I watch him scratch sloppy notes across the page before him, calculating then crossing the answer out, then going back.

I regard the rest of the room, a few scattered bits of conversation drift to me. I don't really hear them as my thoughts continue to swirl. I finish the file before me, adjusting another incorrect total.

And then there is Quinn, pulling another late night. This time she had volunteered and I was happy to have her. Her neat script flows from her hand as she punches figures with absent regard. I still have every confidence her figures will be right. I watch the skin shift over the top of her hand while her fingers move.

I stand up to collect the pile of files in the center of the table as John throws his finished file on the top of the medium size stack. "Okay guys, only a little more to go." I lean over and slide them toward me like a poker jackpot. I feel Quinn look up and regard me.

Two days ago, the gaze would have bothered me and it did, as I recall. Now, it feels different, less threatening, more friendly. I turn to her as I straighten the pile and smile. In a slow careful motion she slides a file over onto the top of my stack for review. I measure it, knowing its perfect and in silent omission of that fact, I set it in the done pile.

I think I see her blush, or maybe gloat a little as I move to the next one. Either way, I'm glad I did it. I can feel the bridges extend and pop into place. And just like that, I think we are friends.

Her eyes cloud as she looks at me, and I watch as she glances around. She opens her mouth to speak, but swallows her words as my presence is crowded by a figure. "Hey Rachel?"

It's John, and I turn to him, looking up from my seated position. Absently I fiddle with the file before me, flipping it open and ruffling the pages. My thoughts drift and I wonder what Quinn was going to say. "Yes?"

"So, if we finish the project two days ahead of schedule me a few others were wondering if we could have an early day on Friday?"

I smirk. "Trying to get out of seeing my face?"

He mirrors it back, "How did you know that was it?"

I nod, an early day with all these late nights seems fair. "Sure… if we can get everything finished then…"

There is a pop as the breakers blow and the lights go out.

I wait for a moment with baited breath, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. Someone takes a deep breath. Across the room I think I hear Tori make an 'eep' as she shuffles in the pitch black.

The halogen emergency lights pop on as the backup generator starts to fire. I'm still staring at John when the lights come on. He is painted in a sickly orange glow. "Guess no early day on Friday, so sayith mother nature."

He laughs, "No I guess not." I'll still probably give them an early day anyway. They have processed 2500 files in the last two days. It is deserved.

I look down at my watch, 9:00pm. "All right, we have five minutes to pick this up and get out before the doors auto lock." I stand and it is the only motion in the room. I clear my throat. "Seriously, let's pack this up."

Pleasantly, people are laughing as we pick up the files. They jest back and forth and the banter comforts me.

"You know you wanna get locked in. Don't lie."

"With you? Hell no!"

"What about Don in Supply chain? Then it would be okay, right?"

"Uh, you're standing on my foot."

"You like it."

"Shut up."

Quinn is silent beside me as we exit the conference room and everyone walks toward the ground floor exit. I feel her presence beside me and it feels strong and comforting in a way I can't express. Solid – I guess is the best way to describe it. We press open the doors with difficulty as the torrential rain streams down around us. John wedges it open.

I shiver as the water penetrates my silk blouse. I shade my face as I turn back to the doors, watching that everyone makes it. I do a silent head count, ignoring the chill. The doors lock with a final click and John lets it fall shut. He grins at the sealed frame, "Not this time, you bastard."

Someone laughs.

Everything is a daze as I wander out toward my car, my hair windblown and wet. I twine it in a short ponytail with my fist and slip my laptop behind me, using my body to shield the rain from the electronics. I look up at the heavy thunderheads as a crackle of lightening blinds me. I wince and lower my gaze. The thunder snaps around me a moment after.

I near my car and I dig into my purse, the black leather wet and slippery. I fiddle for my keys. Something rushes up beside me and rather than flinch, I freeze. Before I turn, an umbrella intercepts the rain, giving me a modicum of protection. I don't need to look to know who it is. I _feel_ that solid presence again. "Thanks, Quinn."

"Anytime." She edges loudly as a wash of light and thunder spark in the inky night. It colors her eyes and I watch her pupils constrict, swirled in green and gold. She is so close I can feel the heat of her body and rather than move away I feel compelled to move closer. I swallow the desire to actually make the motion.

I struggle with my keys, my fingers so cold I can't move them. "Sorry." I breathe as I finally pull them free and get them in the car door. I open it, the automatic locks popping all four doors. "Get in; I'll give you a ride to your car."

"Okay." She circles around and slides into the seat beside me. The rain tins against my hood and roof. I wedge the keys in the ignition. "I don't think I have ever sat in a car with you before."

I twist the car to life and sit back, taking a moment to contemplate her words. What did the tone mean? I regard her in the dry interior. She is soaked, more so than myself. Her hair is light brown in places from the water. "No." I smile. "Why are you thinking about it?" I ask.

"Its nice." She shrugs and the water from her umbrella drips onto her pants, absorbing in darker patches. She pats it dry with the palm of her equally wet hand. "It's like an new old friend, or that's how it feels anyway."

I nod acknowledging it. "I feel that way too." She smiles and I turn the car over, churning the gears since it was already running. I blush and smile wryly at it. "Guess it didn't like that." I spark my wipers to life, parting the water, throwing it in sparkling arcs away from the car. "Nice night." I joke as I put it in reverse and back out.

"Yeah." She looks out, her breath clouding the passenger window. "Reminds me of the storm in junior high, do you remember that?"

I dimly remember the flooding of the facilities room that left the school shut down for a week. "Did they ever get the mildew smell out of the locker rooms?"

Quinn laughs. "Not while we were there anyway. Hopefully by now, yeah."

The conversation is warm, but awkward. My words feel thick around my mouth, so we fall into a short silence until she whispers, "Right there, the black one."

I pull up beside her sleek Lexus and downshift the Camry into park. She makes no move to exit so I stare at her. The glow of my headlights are back flashed from the building's windows into the car and cut swatches across her face. She is staring at her hands, nervously weaving the long fingers together.

"Hey Rachel?" It is a whisper just above the level of the rain. I lift my eyes from her hands to the pensive gaze across from me. "I don't want to pry."

I know what she is going to ask before she does and I mask the dread it creates in my chest. "It's okay." I allow her the space to poke at my defenses.

"I just want you to know that if you need anything, anything at all…" She smiles hesitantly. "I'll be here." Her eyes unfocus as thoughts race behind them and then she reaches into her purse, pulling free a small folding of paper. She scribbles numbers down and then hands it to me. "This is my home phone; um… it's just me, so call anytime."

I don't know how to feel in that moment. It is so rare for me to meet people, old or new that unnerve me in this way. They make me feel emotional and vulnerable and like a child again. Quinn has been that person for me my whole life. Not an enemy, but a competitor for everything. Scholastics, boys, friends, acclaim; yet her gesture is so nice it cache deletes everything I thought I knew about her. I struggle on my breath suddenly overwhelmed, "Why?"

"Why not?" She whispers and the seriousness in her face makes me shiver.

I struggle to bring back a moment of balance. "Why not your cell phone?" I joke, injecting humor like a much needed bandage on a bullet wound.

She laughs. "It's busted. I'll give you that in a week of so when I get a new one."

"Okay." I tuck the paper into my purse. "Well, good night."

She gives me a rakish grin, "Wish me luck that I don't get swept away when I leave."

"Good luck." I deadpan and she opens the door, swirling rain around her. I watch Quinn get in her car before I pull away. I get to the edge of the parking lot when I realize she is behind me. I look back in my rearview mirror, watching her block outline move around in her car. I imagine she is leaning over to turn on the heat.

I do the same.

She follows me onto the freeway and we pace one another. I keep finding myself looking in my mirrors, watching as she passes me and then falls behind in our separate lanes. I can't stop myself from finding the visual comforting, and she catches me. And smiles.

It feels strange and I don't understand it. The rain makes it hard for me to see if she is doing the same thing as I pass. I imagine I can feel eyes on me and it makes my stomach rush with butterflies.

That's when the guilt comes, like a wave to consume me. What am I thinking? Just because I have these new found feelings, doesn't give my body and mind the right to plug every woman I see into a spank bank for later. I grip the wheel tighter. It's stupid… adolescent stupid. And Ally… I just want to talk to her and be around her and in deference to that all I can do is fantasize about Quinn Fabray going home and taking a warm shower.

I force the thoughts out of my head and with the same voracity others replace it. Work. What am I going to do? I dismiss those thoughts, and Richard's face pops into my mind. I dully realize I was much better off with Quinn.

"Come on Rachel, get it together." I announce into the interior of the car. "You have responsibilities. You have other more important things than…" What? Thinking illicit things about an old friend and even worse, a potential new hire? I groan and turn the windshield blades higher. "No wonder they picked me, I don't even have morals anymore."

Richard.

In truth, I didn't even want to go home. I knew one of two things was going to happen. He would either be angry, or blissfully sweet. It really wasn't that much of a polar opposite. It would just end with me crying. It was the location of the tears that mattered to me. I wasn't going to end up in bed again out of misplaced desire to be a good person. Like it was my job to roll over and give it up in order to affirm I am a good wife.

No, I need to tell him the truth. I need to be sure that he knows that I am done with the yelling and the mind games. I need him to understand that my pay is not enough for us to have a life with.

I spy my off ramp and look around once more for Quinn. She isn't far behind me, and for no other reason than comfort I slow down so I can look at her one more time. And maybe its fate, or life, or perfection, but in that one second glance, she is looking at me and I'm looking at her and the rain breaks just enough that I can see the sadness in her eyes. And then she is gone, and just like every other time before it leaves me empty and alone.

But this time I feel it like a ripping shot through my heart and as the car comes to a stop beneath the freeway, I seriously consider going straight back onto the North bound lanes and continuing my drive with her.

But I don't, because I have a marriage to destroy.

In the parking garage, I rest my head against the wheel and exhale a long slow breath. I know what is coming, and like a car crash I can't tear my eyes away from it. I go through the motions:

Keys out.  
Purse, shoulder.  
Laptop.  
Close the door, click the alarm.  
Beep Beep.  
Up the stairs, turn the corner.

The rain rushes down around me and I shiver as it breaks my inner monologue.

Run up the stairs.  
Turn the corner.  
Watch the puddles.

I dance out of the way as the complex lights warn me of the pools before I step into them.

Up the stairs.  
Turn.  
Up more stares.  
Unlock the door.  
Face my fate.

I freeze under the awning with my keys in the door. I can't do this. I can't have this conversation and I can't live my life like this. I'm caught between two paths and I can feel the wolves chasing me, daring me to pick one or die. I open the door with a rush of trepidation and more than a little fear. I see candles and I swallow. I can't imagine what it would feel like to say what I have been thinking in the face of such gentle romanticism. I assume that is what he was hoping for. He knows me so well. I feel my resolve slipping and I lock the door behind me.

"Hey babe." Richard whispers with a glass of wine in his hand. He is leaning on the counter, and he tilts the glass toward me. "I made chicken tetrazzini, minus the chicken of course."

I nod and take the glass of wine from his hand. I'm still holding my laptop and I firm my fingers around the material in my grip. Its heavy, but not nearly as laborious as the weight of my wedding ring that I see before me. It represents a chain, a shackle I can't break free of.

He smiles at me, his sky blue eyes drilling into me. "How was work?"

I take another sip of wine to stall my impulse to talk about the horrific day. "It was fine, just work, you know?"

"Yeah." He indicates the kitchen. "I cleaned up the stuff in here and fixed the leaking faucet."

"Thank you." It freezes me a little in my place. Maybe this is what love is…? A gathering of good and bad that piles on top of you, drawing you into a sea of moments that tear you apart. Maybe love is a swirl of everyday melancholy that you experience with another. It is the answer to the riddle; can one person give you everything you need?

I debate it, over and over in my mind in those little moments that tick past. I firm my hand on the glass in my grip and I close my eyes. "Richard." I set the glass down. "I need to tell you something."

"I know." He crosses his arms before him, leaning back on the counter. "I know what you are going to say."

"You do?" I hesitate.

"Yes, you're angry that I said what I said, and you're right – I shouldn't have said that to you." I wish it was that simple. I finally set my laptop down beside me.

"It is more than that."

The words seem to suck his strength away and the even look on his face falters a little. He is crestfallen, and I can only imagine what he'll look like in a moment when I tell him the truth. "For a long time," I begin, "I have been alone in our marriage. I realize now we should have talked about this before, but honestly, too much water under the bridge at this point."

"What do you mean too much water?" He sounds like he's ten – such is the magnitude of his sudden breathless pain.

"I'm telling you that we fight, we hurt, and I'm never happy and the only way I can tolerate all the negative is if there is a positive to balance it, you know?"

"We have good times." He bats back at me, reaching out to touch my arm. I let him.

"Name them?"

It catches him off guard. He stops, his thumb moving in idle patterns over my arm. His eyes are distant as her stared through me, thinking. "When we went to the airfield?"

"Before or after you yelled at me for parking where I did?" I pull my arm back. "Or how about on the way home where you threatened me to take the management position I'm in now instead of going back for my Master's degree."

"We needed the money." He defends. And I'm sick of it coming back to this; coming back to money or my voice or our sex life.

"You needed to get a job."

"You need to shut the fuck up." And there is the Richard I know. He bears his teeth at me and instead of backing down as I so often do, I rally. Because this is the last time I'll be talked to like that, when I have other options. Safe harbors that I might not know, but really… I stare at him, this is the first time I realize I don't want the monster I know over the monster I don't.

"I'm done." And those two words hammer in my heart harder than any amount of I love yous.

"Good." He hisses at me. "Then get out."

I suddenly see numbers pop in my head.

Divorce Attorney: $3,500.00  
50% of my bank account: $15,000.00  
Alimony pro-rated at 25% of my earnings: $1050.00/month  
50% of household items: $5,000.00  
Total Buy-out: $24,550.00  
Being free of Richard, priceless.

"Fine." I walk into the bedroom and throw open the closet, the whole time thinking that I can't believe this is happening. I pull out the suitcase and drop it on the bed.

"That's mine." He says behind me and I turn to measure him.

"Really?" I fling it open. "You really want to start claiming the fucking suitcase?"

"Yep." He smiles evilly.

"Okay." I shove it off the bed and it clatters to his feet. "Go fuck the suitcase then. Maybe it will be more receptive to your cheap adolescent advances."

"You didn't always complain, so what kind of cheap bitch does that make you?"

And blessedly, finally, those words don't bother me anymore. I move around the room grabbing my stuff, ignoring him. I don't look at him and the resounding thought in my head is what a waste the last five years have been. I pull free everything I remember I'll need, going through my check list like I'm packing for a trip.

"You know, I have known for a while that we were done." He laughs. "I am so glad I got that last little fuck in though, really."

"Well, something to remember me by I guess." I drone as I zip up my garment bag to protect my business clothes. "You gonna say this is yours too?" I ask pulling out my old college backpack.

"Nope, that shit is definitely yours."

I unceremoniously shove everything I can into the bag and what I can't fit I carry with me into the kitchen and grab a shopping bag. In a last fleeting moment of acuity, I grab my laptop as well.

"You're going to regret this." He stands in my way, blocking my advance to the front door. I stop in the kitchen, holding everything closer to me. I inhale the untouched dinner and my stomach growls. It sounds so loud in the quiet between us. And for a moment, I do regret it. I regret not keeping my mouth shut. I would be eating right now instead of this. And I realize if that is the only thing I can think of as my marriage falls apart, then it wasn't one to begin with.

"No, I won't." I force and brush past him.

Keys in hand, I press open the door and embrace the cold free world beyond the door. I close the door on candlelight and unkempt promises.

It's cold and drizzling and I think about going into the garment bag to get my suit coat, but I keep walking. I don't care about the money and I don't care about the apartment. I just need to escape.

And by the time I make it to the car I'm waffling back on those thoughts. I'm crying because everything I know is wrong and gone and twisted. My life is torn apart. I throw everything in the backseat and wipe my eyes as I get in.

I half expect him to come through the garage door as I'm pulling away, but he doesn't.

I half hope that he cares enough to want to end things amicably, and will call me before I make it to the hotel. I find myself sitting in the parking lot of the Holiday Inn Express, staring at my phone which refuses to ring.

The car idles in the spot outside the hotel and I shut the engine off. All I want to do is face plant onto the bed and cry, but I just can't bring myself to stoop that low. I will not cry over this. This is what I wanted and needed. This is better for me, like a shot or cough syrup, or a good spanking when you're little.

I pull my phone closer to me and dial the last number I called. It's Ally. I listen to it ring. And she doesn't pick up. That is when I really cry. She isn't there and I'm alone and I have nothing. I know how illogical it is, but I feel like the universe is telling me that I have made a mistake.

I listen to the rain as it beats out a mournful tune on my car in empathy.

I reach into my purse for my cigarettes and instead I come out with the pack and a small folded sheet of paper. I stare at it, and open it. It's Quinn's number, in her neat flowing writing.

I dial it without thinking. It rings all of one time before I hear her voice. "Hello?"

"Quinn?" I ask staving off the break in my voice.

"Rachel? What's wrong?"

Where to start. "I just needed a friendly voice."

"Where are you?" She sounds afraid.

"I'm not outside if that's what you're worried about." I sound angry, totally illogically angry and I don't know why.

"Maybe you should be." I can hear her smile. "I'll give you directions, do you have a pen?"

"Yes."

"Come over and we can talk. If you want to stay the night you can too." She laughs. "I have a terrible pull out sofa and about four awful movies, but I can be persuaded to watch them again if you want."

It is more than I asked for and I feel my walls shoot up. "I'm at a hotel. I'll be fine."

"No. Please, come over." I feel caught again, but her words continue to pour over me. "Let me be your friend, the for real one that I couldn't be before. I need you to come here and not stay at a hotel."

My heart unlocks a little. She had me at friend. "Okay."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I exit the freeway, peering through the rain and almost slowing to a crawl. The street signs are a pain, and I squint trying to read them. I'm glad Quinn told me the third left, because streets I can count. I make my turn, and as the headlights refract off the photosensitive sign I snicker. Starline Drive.

I hate prefabricated housing developments, but this one seems to have a little more breathing room. More than ten feet between the houses, means bigger lots. I stare at them, each one a little different than the other. It's nothing like the typical three plan housing developments in the more urban part of Orange County.

The street curves to the right and I follow it, counting. Tenth house on the right. I slow. There it is. A little stucco house in tan and white, one story maybe two, with a loft. I take in the angles of the roof as the water drips from it. The mailbox out front announces her name with pinpoint clarity in a flash of lightning, Fabray.

Most people, I believe, would be sitting in their car debating on whether to go into Quinn's house or not. Go in, or stay out. I, on the other hand, am sitting in the street debating on where to park. Street or driveway? I look around and notice that all the cars on the street have parking passes. They bait me with their parking freedom.

I sigh and pull into the driveway beside the dark Lexus. I hope it doesn't give a presumptuous impression. I turn the engine off and measure the manicured lawn and flower beds beside me. It feels indescribably foreign as the rain patters down around me and I can't move to get out.

From where I am, I can see a soft glow from the inside of the house, cranberry colored curtains blocking the bay window from my prying eyes. I don't like cranberry. I roll my eyes and slam my head back against the headrest. What am I doing? This is a bad way to start a friendship.

I glance back at the house and pull the keys from the ignition, listening to the tick of the engine as I close my eyes. Just one night, I promise myself. One night and I'll go to a hotel and sort everything out. I open the door and feel the cold rush into the car. It's colder out here.

Not surprisingly, Quinn lives in Corona. Ally, Quinn – why not? Half the people at Trinity live in Corona. It is the new place to be. Low cost, high value. 125% growth rate in its local economy is a sure sign of the times. I feel like I missed the boat on a halfway decent investment.

I leave my stuff in the car, but carry my purse with me as I walk to the front door. On the porch there are potted Geraniums in a rainbow of colors and a few pieces of chotsky, one in the shape of a dragonfly. I touch it absently, and it bobbles in the pot, its metal wings moving.

So strange, so different, so not what I was expecting. I knock twice, my chaffed knuckles hurting from the motion. I'm rubbing them as I hear a sound from the other side of the door. And then it opens.

Quinn's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her hair is freshly washed and I can't help but notice the shine as it shifts in the entry way light. "Hi."

"Hey." I whisper. She frowns. I know she can see I've been crying. The universal sign of female misery printed under my eyes in mascara smudges. I didn't even think about it, but as I step into her entryway I start wiping at the marks, trying to not look quite so…

Broken.

She closes the door and the scents and sights assault me as I glance around at the small sitting room. It smells like, I take a breath, citrus or ginger. I realize as she breezes past me that it is her shampoo. "Um… I'm sorry about the place." She indicates the stairs where there are several pairs of shoes, a stack of papers and a portable printer waiting for transit to the second floor. "My office is up there, so I just kinda get lazy and leave stuff… you know?" She is nervous and she runs a hand through her hair, dragging tendrils loose. "I was going to pick up, but I had to take a shower and yeah… so yeah, priorities."

"It's okay." I follow her as we move into a small hallway and pass a wall that opens to a kitchen and a family room spilling out beyond it. Here I feel different, more at ease. Formal living rooms always creep me out.

"So, yeah, not much of a place. My bedroom is back this way." She points to an adjoining hallway offshoot on the other side of the house. "It is supposed to be the office, but I don't like sleeping upstairs alone." She fiddles with her shirt. "So yeah I switched them." She grins. "Wine, beer, soda?"

"I'll start with wine." I look at my watch, 11:25. "I can't believe what time it is."

"Yeah, tomorrow is going to be an early morning. White or red?"

"Red."

Though she has no malice in her tone, it makes me feel guilty. "I'm sorry, I feel really bad for putting you out."

She laughs. "Putting me out? You can't be serious." She scoffs as she twists the cork on the wine bottle, the sound even more exaggerated by the effort. "All I did was open the front door and pull out a cork." Again, she's laughing. "I'm **so** put out."

I watch her pour the red wine into a glass and not surprisingly she does it perfectly, spinning the bottle to keep drops from slipping down the side. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Pour?"

"Yes."

"I worked at a restaurant in college." She pours the other glass, glancing at me. "Now that you're watching, it's making me nervous." And in effect she messes up this time. Her fingers wipe the bottle's edge to catch the drops. "See?" She indicates laughing.

"Sorry."

She hands me one wine glass. "Stop saying you're sorry." She whispers as she indicates the family room, letting me go before her. The motion is full of old world chivalry and it makes me smile.

"Thanks." I circle the tan sofa and set my purse beside me as I sit down. I sink into the soft material, and immediately, I'm exhausted.

"I told you I have a terrible sofa. I've had it since college." She brushes her hands against it and pulls a thread. "Not much support, but I guess after a bad day its nice to fall into."

"It is." I shift a little, trying to sit upright, but no matter where I move, it just melts like butter around me. I laugh. "I have no dignity when I'm sprawling out on the sofa."

She smirks. "Who says you ever lost your dignity? I think you are one of the more dignified people I know."

I laugh at that, because honestly it is laughable. I'm a cheater, I'm a soon-to-be divorcee, and as far as people are concerned I'm an IRS defrauder. Really, there is nothing dignified about any of it. "Thanks, but I think that should be reserved for people who really deserve it." I sip the wine in my hand awkwardly as I slide further into the sofa.

It must look ridiculous because I can't relax so I'm just hard angles on the sofa cushions.

Quinn must sense my discomfort. "Do you have anything to change into? I can't imagine that wet business clothes are what you sleep in." She leans over, putting her wine glass on a dark brown coffee table. "You should get changed; I don't want you getting sick. If you don't have something, I'm sure I have…"

"No, I have clothes in the car." I shrug from my semi prone position. "I just didn't want to assume anything by bringing them in."

She frowns. "I had already offered for you to stay. I don't understand why you would be making assumptions about something I had blatantly given to you."

I don't know and don't understand it myself. "I guess you're right, I'm sorry." She takes a breath. "I know, stop saying sorry. I'm sorry about it, okay."

Quinn just rolls her eyes. "Here." She holds out her hand. "I'll get your stuff, you just rest here or whatever." She shifts, standing up. "Actually, here, come with me."

I set my glass down and shoulder my purse, following her down the second hallway and surprisingly into a very airy bedroom. I freeze at the door and feel like I'm stepping into the inner sanctum. This is Quinn Fabray's bedroom. And again, it is not what I expected.

First of all, it isn't red and black and art deco. Its light blue and green and cream. I look around, completely unabashed at the soft light, the laptop on the bed and the folded laundry in the corner that hasn't been put away. "So, um…" she directs my attention away in nervous punctuation. "Right in there is the bathroom. Why don't you take a shower to relax. I'll bring in your stuff and you can change."

I really just want to go to sleep, but rather than feel like I'm being rude I nod. "Okay." I reach into my purse and give my car keys over to her. "It's all in the back seat. I'm sorry about the haphazard mess it is back there, I just sort of threw everything in."

"It's okay." She smiles and edges a fraction closer, taking my purse off my shoulder. "Just relax and stop telling me you're sorry." She arches an eyebrow. "I might have to get all high-school-aged-Quinn on you." She sets the purse down on her side table. "And we both remember what a pain she was."

I know she is joking, but suddenly I'm threatened. I'm not sure what to do. My head is spinning. I just nod. "Okay, well…" What am I supposed to do? "I'll just go into the bathroom then?" I back away and press the door open as I turn.

Her voice follows me, "Towels are on the top shelf."

And I lock myself in the room. Holy shit. My hands are shaking. I replay the conversation we just had and my heart pounds in my ears making my head spin. I stare at my reflection. I look like shit. Pale and worn. My eyes red and raw. What the fuck is going on? I white knuckle the cool marble on the bathroom sink and use it to steady myself. "Get a fucking grip." I whisper harshly at myself and I have the audacity to look surprised at my own utterance.

Quinn knocks on the bathroom door and a do a full body flinch in response. "Yes?"

"I wanted to tell you that the shower knob has to be turned the opposite directions to get hot or cold, I think they installed the temperature gauge backward."

I look over at it. "Okay." I swallow. "Hey Quinn?"

"Yeah?" Her voice is close, almost like her face is pressed against the door.

"Um…" I imagine it. "Thank you. I'm sor…" I swallow the apology. "I don't mean to be so bizarre. It's been a bad night."

"I know, and it's okay. We can talk about it if you want when you get out."

And for some strange reason I really want to. "Okay, I'd like that."

"Okay. I'm gonna get your stuff now."

There is something really mind boggling about standing in Quinn Fabray's shower. Not to say that it is mind blowing in a stalker way, but really… I glance around the semi-small enclosure. I can bet that about forty people would still pay me to take pictures of this, even after ten years.

She has body wash; I open it, in peach and vanilla. It tickles my nose with the sweetness. Her loofa is light blue, the same color of the walls in her bedroom. I reach out to touch it, and then recoil my hands. That is just creepy. I feel cold tears on my cheeks, comparative to the hot water spraying me. I can only imagine what Richard is doing to my creature comforts I left behind.

I press my head under the water, scalding my face. I'm such a weirdo. And now my weirdness is being perverse in the shower of my new old friend. I ignore the churning in my guts as I use the various shower items and finally shut off the water.

The towels are higher than I would like and I find I almost have to jump to get them. Just another reason why this world isn't one for me. I wrap myself up in the terry cloth and wonder why I'm thinking the things I'm thinking.

I rake my nails through my hair and realize that I don't have any clothes in the bathroom. Fuck. I stare at my exasperated expression.

There doesn't seem to be anyone in Quinn's bedroom as I listen, I crack the door open a hair and peek out. Empty.

I pull it all the way open and I go over to my backpack resting against the bed. I eye the door with trepidation, until I see that it's locked. Little gestures aren't wasted on me, so when I realize she has locked herself out of her own bedroom so that I can feel comfortable, I smile. She really is a different person.

My pajamas consist of gray shorts and a tank top. I stare at them… really not as comfortable as I would have wanted. I glance over at Quinn's neatly folded laundry. Maybe there is something I can borrow?

"Hey Quinn?" I raise my voice to penetrate the door.

From somewhere beyond it, maybe the sofa I hear her reply. "Yeah?" A moment later I hear her footfalls. She tries the knob and I freeze in my towel with my clothes in my hand. "Oh sorry." She releases it. "What's up?"

"Um… I might actually need a change of clothes, can I just take a shirt from your pile right here?"

I think I hear her sigh. "No those are work shirts and outside shirts, um… in the dresser to your left, on the right side of the bed, second drawer are some soft sleepy shirts."

"Okay thanks, I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, no problem."

I circle the bed and pull open the drawer. Before I'm able to focus on the perfectly folded pile of shirts, I see something so contraband the high school girl in me squeals a little. Obviously, in a panic, she had shoved a bra into the drawer. I realize I have to move it before I can get to a shirt. I don't even realize I'm licking my lips until it's done and I feel they are wet.

My hand moves it to the side, and I feel the lace slide under my fingers. It's silky. I guess. Victoria's Secret? I flip the tag, just to check. Yep. I'm good. I know that brand anywhere. I direct my gaze a little lower to the small printed size 34B, very nice.

Guiltily, I pull a shirt and shut the drawer.

I carry my dirty clothes with me as I walk down the hall. I didn't notice that the floor is hard wood, and it feels warm under my feet. Quinn is sitting on the sofa, and she looks up at me. She smiles a slow burning look that threatens to eat me up. I don't know if she knows that she seems to always have bedroom eyes.

"How was your shower?"

"Good, thank you." I show her my towel and clothes, directing her penetrating gaze from my face. "What should I do with these?"

She shrugs. "I can throw them in with mine tomorrow." Her eyes grow a little distant. "I'm really sorry about the mess. I have been working on a bunch of stuff and my world just falls apart when I get busy."

"It's okay." I wrap my clothing in the towel and put it down next to the sofa. I move past Quinn and sit down, reclaiming my previous spot where I fold into a happy mess of butter cushions. "Much better when I'm not in half a pantsuit." I pull my legs up under me and get more comfortable.

"Good." She picks up her wine glass and I notice it has been refilled. "Did you want to watch a movie or something?" She offers trying to be a good hostess.

"No." My hands snag my glass. "I think I just want to rest, honestly."

"Okay." She sips her wine and stares at the floor. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Are you and Richard getting a divorce?"

It is so blunt I feel my expression twist into surprise. "Um…" I shake my head. "I think so. It has been bad for a long time and I think I'm tired of it." I sigh. "Like right now, I'm not sad."

She smiles mildly. "Yes you are, but you are freaking out." I meet her gaze and her smile doesn't falter. "It will take a few days, but eventually it will hit you and it's going to suck." And I know she is right. I lower my gaze.

"I think I'm most upset that everything I have worked for, cried for, bled for is gone." I snap my fingers. "Just like that." I sigh heavily as my chest burns. "I don't know. I just feel like I'm in freefall and there is nothing to catch me."

"You don't need anything." She presses forcing my eyes up to hers again. She moves forward, sliding across the cushions. I feel the shift of her motions, and I swallow as she moves closer and closer. She stops close enough for me to see a speckling of gold flecks around the pupils of her eyes. "You need you."

"I don't know who I am anymore." I burst, her gaze steadying the sudden elevation in my breathing. "I don't know."

"Honestly, that is the worst part, I know." She absently pulls her bun out, and her crimped and curled strands fall crazily around her face. It releases a spray of ginger and citrus in the air around me, fogging my mind. "I have been there." She winks knowingly. "I will be here- for you."

"You have no idea what I'm talking about." I brush away the softness of the smell and drown in my misery.

"It doesn't matter." She whispers. "I'm sure you will tell me sometime. And maybe then I'll tell you my story." She pats her legs absently. "All you need is you to catch yourself. All the rest of us are just players in the stage of your life."

"I don't act anymore." I feel my voice break. I don't know if it is emotion or the scarring.

"Too bad." She brushes the strands of hair on the left side of my face. "You were really good." She grins pulling her hand back, and I tumble into those words, a contrast to what Richard believed about me. I feel my lip tremble and she wraps her arms around me as I burst into tears.

"Shhh…" She holds me and it feels good as her warmth envelopes me. "It's okay."

I sob into her shoulder, pulling her tighter to me. "It isn't."

"But it will be." Her hands draw circles on my back, soothing my tears. "It will be, I promise. Until then, just know I'll be here."

I nod, unable to catch my breath. And she holds me like the best friend I never had.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I blink. My mind is pulling me from my dreams, and the ghostly images fade as I struggle to remember where I am. It's dark and I feel so comfortable I don't have the faintest idea why I'm awake. I take a deep breath, my slow mind rousing in a flash as the scent of ginger infiltrates my sleep. It is very close, almost inside my nose. As if that isn't enough of a tell tail sign of where I am, I feel the sofa cushion move under me and it takes a deep breath as well.

My eyes fly open and I roll them to the soft curve of a cheek and the column of neck before me. I let go the breath I didn't know I was holding, swirling a tendril of blonde hair. My brain about shoots out my ears as my heart slams into my throat. I realize I'm asleep on Quinn.

The primary resounding thought being: Oh holy shit.

I also realize it feels amazing as secondary thoughts pummel my brain with the things I can feel.

I feel the heat of her body, I smell her skin. It is so all encompassing, swallowing me in totality. I try to clear my throat and I can't, all saliva gone. I hear her heartbeat timing steadily and slow against the left side of my face, and further down I feel her bent knee against my hip, squeezing pleasantly. She is drawing me against her protectively, her arm wrapped around me.

I hold my breath again and catalogue where I am. I'm in the family room, on the sofa, on **top** of Quinn's beautiful body. As I stiffen, she twines her arm tighter against the length of my back. I almost, painfully almost, let it happen around me as I close my eyes for a moment.

But I can't, because I can't do this. Blinking the burn of last night's crying out of my eyes, I shift a little and sit up. Her arm slips away and the room's air is cold in contrast. Quinn is leaning back against the arm of the sofa, her face peaceful as she sleeps. I trace the calm expression and down, measuring the wrinkles in her t-shirt where I was sleeping. I blink away the fact that I was straddling one of her legs, the other bent and resting over my hip. It had felt so wonderful, so natural, so…

Right.

I'm caught again, like a deer in headlights. I want Ally… and I think want Quinn… and I can't have them both. I sigh, I don't even know if Quinn would be interested. I think that, and a smile plays on my lips as I take in how we fell asleep. There seems to be more than friendship in her sleeping embrace, as if her unconscious mind is allowing little secrets to slip loose. I haven't ever had a lot of girl friends, real friends, so I'm not sure if this is normal. I shake my head clearing the sexual innuendo in our positions. My eyes focus on the warm expanse of bare abdomen that shifts pleasantly before my eyes with each breath.

And all I want to do is touch it.

A bubble of excitement penetrates me as I realize I was lying against that skin, and in echo of my thoughts I run my fingertips against the vanishing warmth on my shirt. The glee is swept away as I see Ally in my mind.

I slip quietly from the sofa and squint at the clock on the cable box as I fight to keep my feet under me. 3:58am it screams in neon, the image bobbing as I threaten to fall asleep where I'm standing. Okay. I'll have to wake her soon so we can make it in by 7:30. I stumble around the sofa and collect myself now that there is room between me and Quinn. I rub my hand over my face trying to wake up.

Coffee. I need coffee. I slip into the kitchen and search the counters for the coffee maker. I find it tucked against the niche by the refrigerator. I start my search for filters and grounds from there, using that as the epicenter and spreading out. It doesn't take long. The grounds and filters are in the cupboard above the pot. I drag them out and pop the top. Absently I stare at the scoop and try and visualize the right amount. Strong… I throw in another scoop. I need to wake the fuck up because this has got to be a dream.

I get water and start it with a flick. I lean against the counter and stare over the bar area, where I can see the very top of Quinn's blonde head over the sofa back. I rub the chills off my arms. She is so beautiful it almost hurts.

I cover my face with my hands, running through Ally's conversations with me in my head. It is at that moment that I actually _feel_ like a cheater. I rub my temples, staving off the rush of guilt so strong it makes my head hurt. "I'm such a whore." I whisper to myself.

I need distance. I'm in a bad place and it is making me think and do stupid things. And yet, I fix my eyes on the object of my confusion, she is so perfect. How can anything so perfect, feel so bad? I chide myself, because I'm a cheater, that's why. I sigh and rake some semblance of order into my hair as she stirs.

After a moment of breathlessness I see her sit up and look around. Her eyes are puffy and she looks exhausted. I smile gently as her gaze lands on me. She looks surprised. "I started coffee so that I could wake you when its ready."

"I smell that." She is hoarse and clears her throat. "Thank you." For a second the voice catches me and reminds me of Ally. I swallow reflexively, wishing I could get a hold of her.

"Not a problem." I shift on my feet and turn my back to her as she gets up and stretches. I can't look at her as she extends unimaginably long because I just want to slip my hands all over the gentle curves and valleys of her form. I watch the coffee drip.

I feel like I'm going insane. And I hear her getting closer, the padding of her feet on the hardwood and then tile is strangely intimate and familiar. I don't know why.

"So," She bumps her shoulder into mine, sending my body into an electrified chain reaction that splinters through my whole side. She moves away as I tighten my arms around myself. "What did the Marketing exec say yesterday?"

I shrug. "Nothing important." I lie. "I don't know. I'm still trying to sort things out."

"Okay." She falls silent and I almost wish I would have started a conversation, because in the silence I can feel her eyes on me and it makes me so nervous I could scream. I can't stay here another night. I close my eyes.

"Quinn." I don't turn from the coffee pot. "I can't thank you enough for last night, but I think it would be best if I stayed somewhere else."

I hear her take a breath and I can't seem to find mine as I realize it was harder to say those words to this woman than it was to tell my husband I was done with our marriage. She sighs. "Okay." I hazard a glance at her as I watch her mouth move without words and then finally she gathers the strength to speak. "Was it something I did?"

I immediately feel badly. "No." I placate. "No, not you- me. It's me." I find myself talking in circles but I can't stop as I ramble nervously under the intensity of her hurt expression. "I just, I think that I'm… I just don't want… I don't understand what I'm supposed to feel. I just feel so vulnerable… and I don't want to…" I growl and stop. "I don't want to mess up our friendship because I'm in a really strange place right now."

"Because of Richard?"

"No." I bite my lip. Should I tell her? I glance around the kitchen looking for exits if she flips out. "Look. I'm going to be honest about something."

"Okay." She positions herself defensively arms crossed, knees locked. It intimidates the crap out of me.

"I'm just going to say it, and whatever happens is out of my control… okay?"

"Okay."

"And if you want me to leave then that is okay too."

"Rachel…" She grumbles warningly.

"Okay so, I'm in love with a woman named Ally and being here with you complicates things." I say it faster than I have ever spoken before, so that like pulling off a band-aid it won't hurt as much.

She doesn't move, doesn't breathe. She just stares at me. "Really?"

I can't read her tone. "Yes, really."

"Oh."

That's all she says. I can't understand her expression. It looks pained. I suddenly wonder if she really did care for me as something more than a friend. I press away those feelings as she lowers her eyes to the floor. "Okay, I understand."

And I realize she does care. I back a step away. "I'm really sorry, Quinn…" she doesn't look at me. "I really am… I um… I just… you are amazing, but…"

She sighs. "Is that who you are going to stay with tonight?"

"Yes, hopefully."

She smiles at me mildly. "Why hopefully?" She shoves her hair behind her ear, looking five years old. "I don't see how anyone could turn you down."

"I just can't get a hold of her." I shrug. "I'll try again. She is probably busy. She owns her own company and works a lot."

"Ah." And that's it. Nothing. No condemnation. No pity retort. She just stands there and looks at a point somewhere off to the left of my face.

I'm almost annoyed with her acceptance and total noninvolvement. What is it with the people in my life? They seem so content to just let me walk away. But I know that I don't have the right to say anything, so I sulk.

We make coffee and drink it in the silence of the kitchen. I peer at Quinn over the rim of my coffee mug. She is a puzzling creature, so soft and yet I feel like if it came down to it, she could annihilate someone. It gives me comfort, which is stupid, because I'm not hers and she isn't mine.

Which leads me to my next logical question, why not? It would be easy to fall in love with her. She is so easy to care about. It's Quinn though, and I can't help but remember who she once was and probably still is underneath all the time and designer suits. The background doesn't really matter, it is the essence. She always held for me an essence of something negative; pride, jealousy and envy sparking to mind almost immediately. How could I ever build a relationship with someone who's foundation is swiss cheesed with holes and empty pain.

Besides, Ally and I click. And know eachother's history. And have awesome sex.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She whispers and I realize she is staring at me, her all-too-consuming eyes enveloping me in their warmth.

"I wouldn't part with these thoughts for dollars."

She snickers. "Okay, but just so you know." She thins her lips into a faux serene setting. "You are welcome to stay again and I promise to make it into the bedroom this time."

"That has nothing to do with it." I set my coffee down and when I meet her eyes she knows I'm lying. Yes, her embrace threatens me, tempts me, and confuses my already complex life – and worse, I know that she knows that.

"Oh, okay." She goes back to her coffee, turning from me. "I'm going to use the bathroom first and then get dressed; you can get dressed and then have the bathroom, okay?"

It sounds fair. "Okay."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: This is easily my favorite chapter in the whole book... and I know from a few of you that it was yours too. :) Hope it still reads well after all these years.

* * *

Chapter 13

I'm staring at my email as it spools and syncs and refuses to produce a message from Ally. I hit receive again and as the hourglass pops I stare at my instant messenger. Nothing. Blank. Foxfire, offline. I sigh.

I stare at the file to my right. It is the last one. The project is complete, well almost. I have to just sign off on it and put in the requisition to have it transferred to the holding facility. I pick up the file and slide it toward me. Quinn finished it, so I know the figures are right. I flip it open anyway and stare at it. Finished… done… perfect… I close my eyes, blocking out the neatly written figures.

That leaves me with a few unsettling thoughts. The first being, what do I do about work? I know that I could always quit and find something else. Though the unemployment rate is over ten percent in California, for mid-level managers and executives its only 3.8, which makes my prospects good. However easy that might be, there is a part of me that just doesn't want this to continue happening. Another equally large part doesn't actually care.

Companies steal from each other all the time and write off the losses and gains. It is a game in accounting to see how much can be expensed as deadweight loss or an uncollected account. It shouldn't bother me, but it does. I curse my moral fortitude in this arena and lack-there-of in others.

The second thought is even more unsettling. If the project is finished, Quinn goes to a different department. I can't justify keeping her when we return to business as usual. Not that she would stay anyway, she is very moral, very good. Even if I were to offer her a job, she would turn it down. She is too good and smart to be sucked into this place. I open my eyes and let my fingers trace the neat writing on the page, knowing that her hands were all over the sheets before me. I miss her even though she is outside the door and a few rows away.

I think about what I'm going to do again when my desk phone rings. I stare at the caller id, Marci. I pick up the receiver. "Hey Marci."

"Rachel, hello." She smooths through the phone. "I see that you put in a request for time paid on your team. You all taking Friday off?"

"I gave it to them as a reward for finishing the project a day early." I see an email pop into my inbox and my heart leaps in my throat, its Foxfire. I forget what I'm doing as my hands start to sweat. "Oh my god."

"What?" The phone buzzes in my ear and I realize I just said it out loud.

"Nothing. I'll get the requisition to you this afternoon. Anything else I can do?" I play it off as I scramble for my mouse and spin the wheel, the pointer sliding down to the email.

"Nah, just wrap stuff up before you leave for the weekend and have a good time." I click on the email and at the same time, Foxfire enters a chat session; her avatar lighting up like a Hanukkah light. I freeze.

"Okay, thank you." The line disconnects and I hold the phone watching with baited breath. I forget how to read as my heart hammers in my ears.

_Foxfire: Hey there. I'm so sorry I haven't been available. Work, you know?_

I drop the phone from my hand and it clatters on my desk. I place it back on the hook, scratching the plastic pieces together blindly as I continue to stare at my computer.

_Foxfire: I missed you._

My hands flex over the keyboard as a million thoughts race through my head. I want to ask why she didn't pick up her phone. I want to know if she is back in town. I want to know why she didn't tell me she was leaving. However the only thing I type is:

_Starberry: I left Richard._

_Foxfire: Really?_

And I wait to see if she says anything more. As always, I can wait about five seconds before I'm typing again.

_Starberry: I did, and it was terrible. I just want to see you._

I sigh heavily as I stare at the computer screen, feeling my heart out on a limb.

_Starberry: I need you, Ally._

There is no response that can take away my agony except one. I stare at the chat box waiting to see the message that she is typing something. My breath is ragged as I sit and wait and watch and feel like all the air is being squeezed out of my lungs. She types quickly, she must, because it is only a moment and then her message appears.

_Foxfire: I need you too, Rachel._

_Foxfire: But…_

_Foxfire: I'm not back yet. Where is he?_

I sigh heavily and direct my eyes to the drizzle outside and the overcast clouds.

_Starberry: At the apartment._

_Foxfire: s;kdf;S! Did he kick you out or did you leave?_

I laugh a little at the keyboard mashing, understanding that frustration all too well.

_Starberry: He kicked me out._

There is a long silence between us and I know she is angry. Hell, if I wasn't so happy to be away I would be angry too.

_Starberry: It's okay._

_Foxfire: You know, up until now I have kept pretty quiet about things._

_Starberry: I know._

_Foxfire: But I can't stay quiet right now, about that. And I'm sorry, but what the FUCK?_

_Starberry: What the fuck, what?_

_Foxfire: He is an asshole! A piece of shit asshole that if I was taller and stronger I would destroy his existence! ARGH!_

I read her angry words and though I should feel terrible because it is my life she is talking about, I smile – feeling loved. Then I feel terrible because she isn't back yet. I hang my head and carefully click out a few words, and they contain all my emotional vulnerability.

_Starberry: Ally, are you coming back soon?_

_Foxfire: Yes, tomorrow night._

I frown. It means I'm going to a hotel tonight. I rest my elbows against my desk and run a hand over my face. Or I could go back to Quinn's… I glance at the computer.

_Foxfire: Where are you staying?_

I scoff. As if it is an easy answer! I roll my eyes as I click across the keys.

_Starberry: I was staying at a friend's house, but I think I'm going to a hotel tonight._

_Foxfire: Why?_

Almost immediately she answers and I huff a breath. "Because I'm attracted to her."

_Starberry: because I don't like sleeping on the sofa._

_Foxfire: Okay, that seems fair, so tomorrow then? I'll see you tomorrow?_

_Starberry: yes._

I smile as I see her writing back.

_Foxfire: I can't wait. Really, I'm freaking out just thinking about it. I can't wait to hug you._

_Starberry: I know what you mean. I just can't stand the excitement._

_Foxfire: I want to stay and chat but I have a meeting I have to go to. Tomorrow then?_

_Starberry: Tomorrow… Ally?_

_Foxfire: Yeah?_

I love you.

_Starberry: Nothing, nevermind._

_Foxfire: No, what?_

I just want to tell her because I feel it coursing through me. I tap my finger idly on my keyboard, hovering over the 'I' with precision, daring myself to hit the button.

_Starberry: I just need you._

_Foxfire: I know. And just know that I'm beside you and with you right now, even though I'm not in your office with you._

I take comfort in the words as I move through my day. I imagine her beside me, filling the vacant space as I go from meeting to meeting and let my team know they have the day off paid tomorrow. She is with me when I go to the lunch room and remember I have nothing to eat.

"Rachel?"

It's Quinn. She breezes in beside me as I stare at the vending machines. She looks elegant and beautiful in her lavender top and black slacks. Her image wafts away my ghost of Ally, leaving just Quinn and I in the room.

I swallow under her soft look. "Have you thought about my offer?" She takes a breath as she glances around, lowering her voice further. "I just don't want you going to a hotel or something."

"I was planning on meeting with someone." I pause. "What do you mean hotel? You knew I was meeting Ally…" Warning bells go off in my head as I firm my lips tightly.

She smiles smoothly. "I figured that if you had gotten a hold of her and you were going to spend the night with her, you'd be bouncing off the walls." She shrugs. "You have looked kinda edgy all day, so I figured she was either unavailable or unreachable."

I swallow distracted by my transparency as I juggle the change in my hand. "No, we talked."

"But?"

And her damn eyes are on me making me talk even though I don't want to. "She is still out of town."

"Okay, then we should go out and hang out."

I really don't want to, I'm exhausted. "Sure." My mouth betrays me. I screw my face up in confusion of my traitorous lips.

"Oh wow." Quinn laughs bubbly and sweet. "I don't think I have ever seen that face on Rachel Berry."

It hurts suddenly, hearing my maiden name on her lips. I feel the breath sucked out of my lungs. Those are the things I had been avoiding. Changing my name back. Losing all my money. Moving my shit out. I feel overwhelmed and circle myself in my arms. "umm… yeah it probably isn't the best idea."

"I'm sorry." She presses and forces my eyes up to her. "Oh, don't cry." She stalls her hand as it comes toward me, and I swear it was going for the drops threatening my cheeks. I swallow, stalling the emotion washing over me.

"I won't." I wipe my own eyes. "It's okay." I clear my throat exaggeratedly as I realize where we are. "I just don't think it is a good idea, since you know, I'm gonna be partially broke soon."

"I'm sorry." Quinn smoothes her hands before her. "Tell you what, my treat." I go to deny it, but she stops me with a look. "Really, consider it payment for teaching me accounting software."

I laugh. "I didn't teach you anything." I bite my lip regarding her even smile. What could it hurt if we are out in public? "Okay, I mean I don't have a choice, my car is at your house." I give in and am rewarded with a cheeky grin.

"Great! Tonight then, my captive." She looks so happy. It haunts me as she backs away a little and turns to leave. My eyes follow her and the small almost unbelievably adorable strut in her step. I feel a little breathless as I lean against the vending machine, following the sway in her hips and the bounce of her long blonde hair. As she vanishes from view I can collect myself and the figurative dropped jaw on the floor.

I look up at the particle mesh ceiling tiles. Tonight I hang with a friend and tomorrow I fall into my new lover's arms, I think idly as I sigh and juggle the quarters in my hand, going back to my food selection. It doesn't sound that bad in reality. I frown. So why does everything feel wrong?

There have been a few times in my life that I watch everything move in accelerated motion without me. I feel like I'm swimming as things spiral around, passing me, leaving me behind in disregard. The first was when my grandmother died, because I knew she would never hug me again. The second was high school graduation, when I realized my dreams had to become reality. Being in the hospital was another, when all those dreams crumbled away.

However this time, I feel my feet slow, feel the deceleration of my momentum, feel my heart stall in my chest as I turn the corner of the building and Quinn is smiling beside her car. She is leaning against it, her legs crossed at the ankle in her pumps. Her hip butts against the black door, pasting her light top, fair hair and soft skin against the shining automobile.

I feel people pass me and I see the sun stream down and every ray seems to find her golden hair and light the layers of color within it. I keep moving; my feet are a thousand pounds. She grins slowly at me and I realize she is caught in the time warp with me.

And at **this** moment I know something has changed.

I feel my heart start again and my feet free up. "So, what do you want to do?"

I can't answer her as I get closer and circle the car. Her face is turned to me over the roof and her glimmering smile melts my defenses. I lower my gaze and stare at the door handle, afraid and excited as it unlocks with her keyless entry.

I slide into the leather interior and it's hot. My clothing immediately sticks to me and I struggle a breath. She joins me, pressing her index finger to the ignition and the engine roars. I leave the door open, so bearable air can get in. "So," She pulls my attention from the floorboards. "Where to?"

"I don't know."

She wipes at her brow, dusting her hair back as she closes her door and unbridles the air conditioner. I'm grateful for the money she spent on this car as the air pours cold and I can shut my door. She waits until I buckle my seatbelt, and we are off.

The trees melt into pavement, melt into fields, melt into industrial complexes, and then into freeway lanes. I stare out the window as we pass people. I stare at them wondering if any of them have ever felt the angst I feel. I wonder if they have ever felt the pull of the universe in two directions. I wonder if any of them have ever cared this much about two people. I can't sit still as I admit the depth of my emotion, shifting around in the bucket seats, feeling the intensity of every glance in my direction. I'm enamored by her casual cool elegance. I'm transfixed by her easy soft nature. Shocked by how deftly she unlatches my chest and grabs at my heart with her words.

I feel the car slow as the soft tick of the blinker indicates out exit. I look down at the center consol between us. Her long fingers are loosely locked around the drive stick. Though it is an automatic, she clenches her hand and I watch the threading of sinew and muscle move. Her hand is smooth, soft looking. I want to hold it and kiss her fingertips. I shamelessly want to feel it on me and drag moans from my mouth.

The car rolls to a stop. "Hey Rachel?" Her voice pulls me from my illicit musings.

"Yeah?" I look out the windshield and regard the building before us. It's a huge piano store. "Where are we?"

Quinn clears her throat. "Sometimes when I'm really lonely or sad, or just need to relax." She sighs. "I come here."

She turns the engine off, silencing the world inside the car. "I just wanted you to see this place and I wanted to show you something."

I hazard a glance at her and the seriousness of her face awakens me to what she is offering me. It is a secret place, something she hasn't shared with anyone. I feel my butterflies take flight in the space between my breasts and hips, fluttering sickeningly until I get out.

We walk into the wall of smell that can only be piano wood and lacquer. I breathe it deeply, and though most people wouldn't like the smell, with the hint of felt and carpeting, I drown in the pleasant familiarity. I had spent so much time around them, the scent anchors and hurts me at the same time.

I never really learned to play, but it was something that had always made me happy. I focus on the positives of the sensory memory.

"Quinn?" A man calls from across the showroom floor. I feel her blonde head turn and she extends her hand. "Haven't seen you in a little while, where have you been?"

"I've been busy, you know." She shakes his hand confidently, smiling.

"How's the business?" He asks happily.

I look over at him and smile as his eyes bounce over to me. "It's good." Quinn answers a little stiffly. "This is Rachel." She grins, "My boss."

He nods and smiles, then gives me a ghost of a wink. "I think we have an opening here, wanna be my boss too?"

"Sure." I playfully reply. "I don't come cheap though." I advise.

"Wouldn't expect it." He laughs a little, letting innuendo fall in untouched shards around the three of us. He looks back over at Quinn. "You here to check out your baby?"

"Yeah." Quinn crosses her arms before her and I feel the embarrassment and awkwardness in her stance. I have never seen her as nervous as she is right now. "Is it still on the floor?"

"No. I had a guy come through the other day asking about it." The young man scratches his head. "I had the guys move it in one of the back practice rooms so he wouldn't see it." He looks at me. "I promised I'd hold it as long as I could for her, you know?"

"What kind of piano is it?"

We begin walking and the young man talks over his shoulder. "It's a Boesendorfer. Fully restored. Probably one of six on the whole west coast."

I glance over at Quinn who is surprisingly quiet. Her eyes are focused on the ground as we walk. I don't know if she is happy or sad. She is just neutral and quiet. I find that her silence scares me.

"German?" I ask.

"Yeah, best German piano out there." He scoffs. "I must like Quinn here because I've held it for a year and still she hasn't bought it."

I glance at her. "How much would something like that retail for?"

"About seventy-five grand."

I choke on my own saliva and see her wince slightly under the utterance. "Did you say seven and five with three zeros, then the period?" I turn away to stare at the sales manager's back.

"Yeah," The man laughs as we enter a small hallway. "I'm cutting the price on this one because it was fabricated and carved by Tiffany's Jewellers, but it is a limited edition, so yeah…" He kicks open a back door and catches it before it can slap back. "I can only go down to about sixty."

He unlocks a nondescript door and pushes it open. "Here you go, just come get me when you are done."

Quinn enters the dark room and the lights snap on through the motion sensor. I slip in behind her and shut the door. She moves forward and I become very aware of why she is so pensive.

It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The highly glossed cherry wood winks as I feel myself drawn to it. It is ornately, yet simply carved with flowing ivy printing on the music rack and the legs. Quinn gets to the instrument and pulls out the bench. She sits down and I stand to the side.

Her eyes are clouded and frozen on the keys. "A year, huh?" I hesitate.

"Yeah." She lifts the cover and exposes 88 glistening white and black keys. "It is the only thing I have ever really wanted." She chews the inside of her lips. "Well, inanimate anyway."

Her hands glide over the keys without pressing them and I'm mesmerized by the reverence in her look. "That is a long time to wait. How much have you saved?"

She lifts her head, struggling to tear her eyes from the instrument. "Forty thousand or so."

I smile at her. "Play something." I urge.

She lowers her hands to her lap. "It's been a while. I'm rusty."

I nod understanding the pain and frustration. "Hey." Is that my voice? It's… soft, warm… indescribably gentle. Quinn snaps to it like a soldier to attention. Her eyes fix on my mouth. "Play for me."

I feel omnipotent as she lifts her hands and closes her eyes, like my command has made it so, and she obeys because she has no will aside from compliance.

And when her fingers depress, and the mechanics within the instrument pound against the strings her chord has indicated, my knees go weak. The vibration of the instrument hammers in my soul and shoots across the void between my broken memories of music as a thing of beauty. I feel like I'm one with the tones she depresses as my eyes follow the pathway her fingers forge across the keys.

She finishes in a small run, crossing her hands over one another, flawlessly ending in a twirl of the highest keys. I fight for my breath as her eyes meet mine. "I didn't know you played so beautifully."

She looks down. "I don't normally."

I move closer, settling my hand against the edge of the instrument. "What song was that?"

"The one I hear in my head right now."

I smile. "It was beautiful." I swallow against the rising lump in my throat. "Why are you thinking that song?"

"It just wants to come out." Quinn slides over a little and pats the bench beside her. I'm spellbound and I follow the motion, taking up a spot beside her. From here I can smell the deep lustre of polish and feel the endlessly muted sorrow from the woman beside me. "I played for you…" She whispers so close I can feel her breath on my neck. "Will you sing for me?"

I swallow. "I can't sing anymore Quinn." Despite my verbal admission I slide my hands to the keys before me, lining my right thumb with middle C.

"You don't sing anymore, it doesn't mean you can't." She slips her fingers over mine, making my hand press the chord down. The pressure of her fingers frees up my chest and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

My palms sweat as I realize I want to. I want to test if it's all gone. She moves closer and instinctually my head shifts a little, tilting toward her as she depresses the keys again, rallying my heart and spirit. "I want to hear you sing." She burs in my ear.

I take a breath, not to sing but to stop my head from spinning. I clear my throat, feeling thickness. "I can't." I close my eyes as her nose touches the side of my cheek shooting sparks through my body. "I want to, but I can't Quinn."

I forget everything but her and I. I'm adrift as her words tease me with softness. "I won't judge, I won't say anything." Her mouth is fractions away from my ear. "I just miss your voice."

I half whine because I know I can never give it to her again. "I'm sorry, but it's not here anymore."

"Yes it is." Quinn inches closer, her fingers drumming the treble chords of a song I know well. "Just three notes." She drawls slowly, exposing me in a moment of weakness.

This time I clear my throat with purpose. I feel her tighten beside me in anticipation. Her hands hit the keys with greater power as she brings her left arm before me and accents her right hand's movements.

And all at once I open my mouth and sing. My heart is hammering louder than the sound that leaves my throat. And it warbles with vibrato and lack of use. But! It was the note I had told my body to produce. I stop and visibly shiver. Quinn begins again, the russet-colored tones dragging me to open my mouth again.

And I try to sing for her the way I once was able to. I can hear it breaking and crackling. I keep going, hoping that like a broken stride of an athlete, with use it will come back. I tell myself if I press through the next note and the one after that, that everything will magically be fixed. Its done when I take a breath to sing and it hurts and nothing comes out. I try again, but Quinn's hands fall silent and she knows I'm finished and spent. There is no shame between us as I turn to her and she's crying.

I feel my throat tighten and my jaw goes slack as I struggle for air. "Why're you crying?" I whisper hoarsely.

She blinks and drops crystal tears from her beautiful eyes. "Because you sang for me." She shudders a breath. "And I never thought I would ever hear you again."

I scoff, trying to pull my eyes away to finish the dramatic motion, but I can't. I trace my hand up and wipe her cheek with my thumb. "Don't cry for me. It's okay."

She sniffs. "I'm so sorry Rachel."

"Why?" I feel myself moving closer, my eyes dropping to her lips. They look soft. She licks them under my gaze.

I echo the motion as she parts hers slightly. "I know what it is like to lose something, and I know you have been robbed." She closes her eyes as she shifts toward me. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay." I whisper as we breathe the same air. We pause like that, sharing in each other's broken existence. It is a beautiful moment, where finally one other human being understands and knows what I've lost. She is someone who appreciates what I had once had; someone who can see the cracks and breaks and accepts it.

Again the world slows down around me for a second time today, as I feel her pull back and look in my eyes. She traces my hand with hers and I realize I need her, like air and water and sunlight. And I think I love her.

But then I realize I have someone else who loves me, and I love them. The moment is shattered as I stand dutifully. "Quinn."

"Yeah Rachel." She looks up at me, and her hand is still twisted in mine, her fingers latching pleasantly in my grip. I focus on them.

"We should go."

"Yeah." She agrees and releases my hand.

And then I remember I never put in my requisition at work. Nor did I put the rest of the files away. Shit.

"Shit." I whisper before I can stop myself.

Quinn turns from closing the piano to look at me. "What?"

"Work stuff I didn't do…" I huff a breath. "Do you think we could…go back maybe before we have dinner or something?" I feel badly. "I'm sorry, I forgot something really important."

"Of course we can go back. It's only fifteen minutes away." She guides me out the door and I watch her take one more look back before she closes the door on her dreams.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

There is something freeing about connecting with someone. It churns a slow fire in my bowels, lighting me from the inside out. I can feel that infinitely satisfied smile glowing on my face. It baits Quinn from the driver's seat and she glances over to shower me in small moments of unity as her lips grin the epithets of adoration that course through me.

I know that her steady bronzed gaze, the sensitivity there, is for me. It steals my breath and I find myself looking at her hand again. In the fading light it is patterned with wispy light and I finally reach out and touch the warm skin. She looks at me, freeing her hand from the drive stick, and melting her fingers with mine.

Her fingers feel good between mine, her strong pianist hands squeezing deliciously around my digits. It threatens promises that I can't deny and in fact, find I drift toward with dizzying accuracy. I imagine the slip of her twining fingers, firm and gentle, inside my body taming the blaze under my skin. I feel my caresses becoming more seductive and teasing, spreading and sliding in and out of the circle of her fingers, mocking motions that make her eyes grow darker, warmer – wanting.

But between our finger play, I feel the tug of guilt slip in, erasing the forwardness and innuendo of my touches. I pull my grip out of reach and rest my hand against her forearm. I'm walking a balance beam between the very real woman beside me, and the very real woman waiting to see me tomorrow.

I want the gentleness of Quinn's nature and the fiery passion of Ally. I want the history that Quinn and I have, and the connection I feel with Ally. I pause, squeezing the soft skin in my grip. I feel the connection with Quinn too and it has come so fast I'm giddy with disbelief.

It is like she just knows instinctively what I need, like she has the keys to unlocking my world. She seems made for me, her dichotomies of gentleness and assertion, her grace and power. And yet, I can't help but feel like she knows too much, touches me too right to be real. It is like she has been inside my head for forever, sucking the confidential conversations I have shared with very few and materializing them into reality.

At the very least I feel intimidated. It is unfair to be stacked against someone so perfect. It would only be a matter of time before I fail and she becomes as disinterested as Richard.

I pull my hand away and stare out the window as we exit the freeway. She is too much for me to handle. Ally isn't. We roll off the exit ramp and curve around to a stop and yet I can't voice those thoughts because for the life of me I don't want this moment to end.

She stares at me in the glow of the stop light, her eyes cataloging me, memorizing. I blush under her study and as I turn my face from hers, she caresses my cheek. It halts my motion and I close my eyes relishing the feel. "Just let me look at you."

I smile quietly as her hands trace back behind my ear and forward over the bone of my jaw. "I want you to look at me." I see the light turn green behind my closed lids, and she tweaks my nose gently. We are moving again, but I keep my eyes closed, mentally repeating the warmth of her touches as she drives us back to Trinity.

I trust her, I realize, allowing myself to loll into the motion of the car. Usually I'm too much for a control freak to relax, but there is something about her. Something in the way she controls the car, and my world, that allows me the freedom to let go. It counters my previous thought; maybe she isn't too much for me. Maybe she is what I need in my life.

I glance over at her, the lean form of her statuesque body, the soft angles of her face and the whipped blond hair from the cracked window. She looks like an goddess and I remit my thoughts. She is so far out of my league I can't even see the field she plays on.

We pull into the parking lot and she slides right up into the closest spot, shutting the car off. Quinn directs her eyes to me, and I feel the vibrations of her body as she moves closer. Now that she isn't distracted by driving, I take in the full force of the desire I have been sparking in her. I feel overwhelmed as her gaze devours me, lighting my awareness. I feel heat pouring off her skin as she edges closer, her shirt shifting temptingly over her torso, defining and drawing attention to the body beneath it.

I'm licking my lips, heaving breath between them, wetting and drying them as all the moisture in my body pools elsewhere. I feel myself pulling back, staring at her transfixed as she moves closer, stretching toward me, baiting me with the darkness of her eyes and the sheer power of her presence. I want to feel her kiss, like I have never wanted anything before. I forget the whole world – Ally, Richard, work, life… everything. Gone – like it never existed.

The air around us ignites in a firestorm as I steel myself and shift toward her. Her lips are so close and I dive into them. There is no wading in, no pretense, just her and me and the staggered breath between us as our lips meet. My body responds with wonton disregard and I can't believe the sounds I make as she pulls me closer, her tongue parting my lips. I would be embarrassed if I could think straight, but I'm swept away as her motions tear literal cries from my mouth as I'm slammed by arousal so overpowering I shiver. I slide as close as I can, the graphite console getting in my way. I palm the cool surface, as she wedges me in her arms, unmoving and unyielding.

And then I feel the flutter of her eyelashes against my face and her kisses change, soften. They allow me to assert myself, pressing in closer, harder, controlling the pace. Her mouth is soft, delicate and I shift my hands to frame her face, feeling the silk of her skin as I pull at her lips. I don't know how she knows that I need this. I don't care how she knows. I just take it. Take the gentleness of her touch and own it with advances so forward I forget who I am. My hand slips down around her waist and the other cups her head. I caress the skin between her shirt and skirt and I don't stop until she moans against my lips.

It tickles my brain with promises and familiarity. It sounds like me, like Ally, like every woman probably… and I know what that sound means. It means she wants me. I pull back, opening my eyes to her lips as they cut a soft smile. "Wow."

I can't even speak. I just focus on breathing. I know I have to stop panting or I'm going to make myself pass out, but I just can't gather my breath. It hitches as I try and reset myself and eventually I'm able to bring it under control. I don't even know what to do. "I've never felt like that before." I say more to myself than the blonde beside me. I don't miss the smile of happiness that cuts her face.

"Me either." I feel doubt bubble up as I measure her open and honest expression. It is too much to hope for and I feel like she is saying those perfect words because she is perfect, not because she means it. I feel terrible because truly, she is stealing my heart out from under me and away from Ally.

"Shall we?" I offer indicating the building. I just need time to think. I need to figure out what I'm doing, how I feel. It is all so new and frightening. I steady my hands on the door as I get out, fishing out my badge and walking on rubber knees to the front door.

I swipe the key card and with a click the doors release. I slip inside, holding it open for Quinn. She follows and I'm grateful she gives me a breath of extra room. I think she must be able to feel my skittishness and I curse my panic and flight response. I run my hands through my hair, feeling like it must be mused with the intensity she is looking at me.

"It's fine." She echoes my thoughts and I smile thinly letting my hands fall to the side as we walk up the stairs.

"Thanks." I whisper belatedly, my thoughts drifting so I don't hear if she responds or not. I crest the staircase and peer through the dim for the light switch. I walk over to it, and blast the room in a white wash.

I blink as everything comes into focus. It is bizarre how empty something feels when it is always so full of life. Even though I spend a lot of time at work late at night, something about coming back to the quiet void is unsettling. I begin a quick walk over to my office and unlock the door.

The requisition is sitting on my desk still. I circle the guest chairs and slide my hand around it. I focus on the white page intently. If I turn it in, those files will never be found again, the requisition shredded as if it never existed. It would all just go away.

Quinn's eyes are on me, I can tell because my body hums. I look up at her. She is standing in the doorway, leaning on the metal frame. There is something in her face, I can't read. "What is it?"

"What are you going to do?"

I eye the page again measuring my smooth writing. She knows I'm debating it and strangely the most important thing in that moment is what she thinks of me. "I don't want to turn it in because no one will ever know."

She folds her arms before her, resting her head against the frame. There is a warm content look that passes through her face. "So, what are you going to do?"

I focus on her clear eyes and mildly amused smirk. "I'm going to make a copy. So that when they try to make it disappear, they won't be able to."

She nods silently, but when I don't move she prods me. "You worried you'll lose your job?"

I am. I have nothing else keeping my head above water. "I can't help but logically reason that I will lose my job if I do this. On the other hand, no one will be the wiser if the files disappear in the holding facility. I won't be implicated in anything at all."

"That is true."

I swallow as my hands sweat and the paper becomes more pliant under my touch. I sigh. "The only problem is that _I'll_ know." I whisper softer. "_You'll_ know."

"Yes." She keeps her face even. "But I won't judge you. So don't worry about what I think."

I want to tell her that I do care. That I feel as if I don't do the right thing, I'll never believe that she could respect me. How could we ever have a future? But her face is impassive, like she knows this must be **my** choice. She gives me the freedom to choose, and for that I am grateful. My resounding thought is that I don't want darkness in our relationship, even if our future is just friendship.

The idea of only being her friend hurts more than the thought of throwing away six years of my life at this company.

I let go an exaggerated breath. "I'll be right back."

But instead of waiting Quinn follows me out of my office and down to the copy room where I spark the machine to life.

"Are you sure?" There is hesitation and nervousness in her voice.

I listen to the machine whirl and do a self-check. I'm not sure, but the pride I see in her face when she goes silent means more to me than being wrong. "Yes."

I press enter on the machine and between the slipping, chucking sound and the flash of light, I feel like weights are slipping from my shoulders. I can breathe for the first time in a week and I realize definitively it is the right choice. "I'm so proud of you."

I grin and laugh lightly, giddy with relief as the copy spits out. "Me too."

"No, I really am." I nod without meeting her serious expression. The tone is enough for me to know she means it.

"We should copy a few of the files too." I sigh, "They are in the conference room."

"I'll go get them."

I watch her depart and I idly play with the copy of the requisition. She returns quickly with an armful of files and I copy them as well, feeling more and more stable and normal.

"What now?" She asks as she eyes the stack of copies. I heft them in my hands.

"Now I give Marci the files and the requisition." I edge a rueful smile. "Let's go pack up the conference room, and then I'll come in tomorrow and deal with the fall out."

We carry the original files and the copies with us as we make our way toward the conference room. I stop at my office and regard the stack Quinn is carrying, "Go ahead, I'll meet up with you."

She strains against the heavy files in her arms. "Okay, I'll start boxing them."

I look through the half window by my office and press the door open. The lights pop back on as I enter. I regard the void beyond the window, dotted with streetlights and further out the beading of car headlights along the freeway. I imagine the drivers can see me if they look up. I wonder what they would think of me.

I wonder what I think of me.

I think I need to pick a side. I need to make the decision. Just like I decided to sell my company out, I need to let go of someone. I meet my reflection in the plate glass window. It's time, I tell myself. I need to let Quinn go.

I check to be sure everything is safe and shut down, then lock the door behind me. I stare after where Quinn went and nervously bite my lip. In a movie this is where a goon would come around the corner and try to use Quinn as leverage to get the requisition and files.

It's ludicrous, I know, because this is real life.

So why am I so nervous?

I feel my heart start to hammer because we have been apart for so long. How many files is she packing? I juggle the papers and bring them with me as I go down the hall and turn toward the conference room. I hear sounds coming from the lit enclosure and I speed up my pace. I turn into the open doorway and spy Quinn across the room.

I stare at her as she tiptoes to grab a box from the top of one of the file cabinets, rocking it as she balances herself. My fears wash away, draining me, but they are replaced by other naughtier feelings as my eyes travel the expanse of her abdomen peeking from her shirt.

I wash away the tremble of growing arousal as I watch her push up and grab the box, but as she extends to full length, her skirt slips down a little further. I eye the slight curve of her hip with appreciation until I see the five point star with stark clarity against her skin and it sucks all the air out of my lungs.

Ally's tattoo. On Quinn.

They're one in the same.

My hands go numb and my arms weaken. "Quinn?" I wheeze her name around the confusion suffocating me. The files slip out of my hands in a splattering of white and crash to the floor.

She drops the box as she turns to me, startled. I can't move my eyes; even as her shirt falls down to cover the inking on her skin. I swallow and look up at her. "The star?"

My throat tightens as she places her hand against her hip and lifts her shirt a little, staring down at it. "Yes."

"You're Ally?" My mind struggles to process what is happening.

She winces a little at the whipped angry tone I throw at her, and smooths the material over her tell. "Yes."

I choke on my thoughts as they rush me. How could she play this game with me? How could they both be the same person?

"How…?" I can't finish the sentence.

"I don't know. It just happened…" She falls silent.

I stare at her, frozen with shock, cataloging how I feel. I feel betrayed. I feel toyed with. I realize that Ally is Quinn as I hear her moans in my ears from our little game of truth or dare. "Oh my God!" I bubble with shock as my mortification overtakes me. "Oh my God, you're Ally!" I shake as I remember that moment.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel. I wanted to tell you so badly." She moves toward me and I stop her with a well placed hand.

"Don't you dare come near me right now." I can't believe it. I feel violated, horrified. Who the hell does she think she is? "It was you on the phone?" I'm still reeling and I keep coming back to that moment like a masochistic mantra.

"Yes. Please let me explain, please." She is taking steps toward me again and I circle the conference room table.

"What do you have to say? You changed your voice; you knew what you were doing." I'm dumbfounded. "How can you explain this?" I feel my face blushing and I can't fight the sudden fury I feel. "I can't believe you had phone sex with me… and then you just… worked with me yesterday like nothing happened."

"It wasn't like that." I keep backing away as she moves in a dance with me. "I wanted to hold you and kiss you, but I knew this would happen if you found out…"

I shake my head silencing her words. "This is happening because you lied to me and I just discovered it."

"I tried to win you as myself last night." She swallows exaggeratedly. "This morning you turned me down." Quinn stops advancing and places a hand on her stomach, an unconscious motion to steady herself. "I have feelings Rachel. I have fears. How could I ever tell you when you didn't want **me**," her voice breaks a little, "you wanted the woman in the computer? The well thought out, eloquent version of me that you will probably never have again unless we talk in writing forever."

"I wanted you both and I have been in agony debating it out in my mind." Her face grows a little more hopeful and I cross my arms to show my displeasure. "No, you don't get off that easy." She frowns instead making me sigh in frustration. "I don't even know what is real." I try to explain.

I grip the chair beside me, sliding into it a moment later as my elevated breathing makes me dizzy. I stare at the table top and feel her sit beside me. Her chair swivels towards me.

"Rachel."

I lift my gaze and dare to say the horrible fear that is pounding in my chest. "I feel like I left my husband for a lie."

I watch the color drain from her face, plunging her into a pallor of yellow and ash. She rattles an uneven breath. "I'm sorry." She lowers her eyes this time and I trace her long strands of lightly curled hair. "I told you the truth about everything except that I'm one person." Quinn exhales heavily, "And one other thing."

I can only imagine what it is and I scowl at her bent head.

I'm still angry, but I can't hold onto it. I just want to comfort her. I move my hand across the table top and flip it over. She doesn't move except to stagger a breath. "I own my own company." She sighs, "but I'm not here for training." She looks up at me then. "I own an independent auditing firm." She bites her lip. "I subcontract for the government."

I press my chair back a little, withdrawing my hand. "Wait." I swallow as I realize the magnitude of what she is saying. "You're here on contract to investigate?"

"Yes." Her gaze waivers. "I'll need those files you copied."

My throat works in a bobbing motion as acid rushes up and burns my tonsils. "Am I safe?" And I think I understand the gravity behind her innocent looks earlier. She would have had to make a very difficult decision if I had picked a different path.

She smiles then. "Yes, of course you are. You didn't know, and I'll be damned if anyone is going to hurt you."

The normal reaction would be for me to feel flattered I'm sure; however, instead I feel the walls closing in around me. I purse my lips. I was still undecided about what I was going to do. I think about my team, my friends, even Marci. "I need to get out of here." I say to myself and abruptly stand. I feel the rush of panic slide through me like a current of electricity. It fires in all my muscles at once and I literally jump around the chair. "We have to go."

"Rachel calm down."

"No. We have to get out now before I vomit." I swallow the threat as my stomach churns and I salivate. All of them are fucked. Totally fucked. Even my team who didn't know about it will be tarnished when the company goes down. I want to voice this, but I know if I open my mouth again, I really will throw up.

Quinn follows close behind me and stops to pick up the copies I dropped. I hear her grunt as she picks them up awkwardly, but I can't stop. I'm bearing down on the staircase as I hear the click of her heels following me hurriedly.

"Rachel at least slow down!" She orders. I stop at the lights. "Thank you."

She looks winded. I can't believe what's happening. I hit the lights plunging us into darkness. I wait a moment, the stir of my breath the only thing I hear as my eyes adjust. I don't know why, but in that moment I focus on the ginger citrus rush of her scent as she moves past me and heads toward the dim glow from the floor below.

I follow behind her and my hand snakes out to touch her back. I soak a modicum of strength from it. She is all I have as I watch the glass house around me shatter. We hit the ground floor and once outside I unceremoniously spit in the planter, warding off the nausea that threatens to drag me headfirst into the flower bed.

I freeze as saliva gathers in my mouth. I spit again. I can't believe I played a roll in this. "Is this why you wanted to date me?" I stand up squaring my shoulders at her. "Is this why you found me? To do your job?"

Quinn just looks at me. Her face is impassive. "Do you really think that?"

I don't know what I think, but I hope it isn't the truth. I firm my lips into a line. "No, but I hope you don't make an idiot out of me."

She looks around and focuses on her car. "We need to talk."

I nod as fear rises up in my throat. "Yes."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Just Drive.

That is what I had told her.

I won't look at her as she slides across the freeway lanes. Its dark inside the car, and it smells like leather and money. I'm surprised I didn't catch on sooner that she worked for the Fed. She carries herself like an offshoot government agent, poised and perfect. I twist my hands tighter in my lap.

I'm so stupid. I'm so naïve. I should have picked up on the fact that Quinn and Ally were the same person as well. It is blatantly obvious now as I sit in the leather seats of her expensive car. The phone, the voice, the knowing smile, the little tells I missed and I feel so insignificant without my usual intelligence to combat my insecurities. Because I'm just stupid and naïve… Even my intuition has abandoned me.

I lean my head against the window and watch the world pass me with blind eyes. I have nothing anymore and everything that I do have - is worthless. I scoff and the sound is loud in the silence of the car. Out of my peripheral vision I see Quinn tighten her hand around the polished graphite and steel of her shifter, but she doesn't say a word.

Her silence hurts me more than any of Richard's screams. I know she is hurt, but I'm drawn into my own morosely overwhelming pain and mental self-mutilation. My car, pathetic. My life, pointless. I don't have a home anymore. I don't have a husband. I don't have a girlfriend. I don't have a job. I have nothing. I close my eyes to keep the blurring spin of the world abated. Everything is spiraling out of my control.

"Rachel?" Quinn's voice is shaking and soft.

"Yes?" I force through the misery I feel keeping my tone even and neutral.

"Where do you want to go?"

"I don't really care." I glance at her, and she meets my gaze with a painfully frightened look. Her eyes go back to the road as I watch her profile.

"I don't like when you are like this." She swallows audibly. "I don't understand you when you don't talk. How am I supposed to make it better?"

I screw my face up into an irritated expression. "You want to know how to make it better? Tell me why you did it?" I can't help myself from drawing cuts in my wounded heart. She can't meet my gaze and I watch her jaw clench.

"I'm not always confident, you know?" She lowers her voice with each word. "I'm human and I make mistakes. I just…" She bites her lips. "I didn't know it was you, but I felt this pull when I saw your screen name. I just needed to talk to you."

"I know we have been over this." I abridge her romanticism and feel a little guilty as she produces an exasperated expression. "I want to know why you didn't tell me right away when you found out it was me."

The silence stretches around us as her eyes dart all over the road and she sighs, leaning back. "Do you remember the Senior Musical?"

I nod. It was my last big performance.

"Well, opening night I went and saw it and since we were friends I thought why not bring you flowers." She shrugs. "I had them and I went up to you, do you remember?"

I honestly don't. "No."

I wonder if I shouldn't have said that. She rakes her hand through her hair in a motion full of insecurity and emotion. "See?" She flips her blinker and changes lanes after checking at least a half dozen times in the mirror. "I didn't think you would, because I didn't matter."

"You mattered." The grown up me is hurt by her accusation, because now she matters so much. I just stare at her, coiling, and then I catalogue what she has said already. I didn't even remember her coming up to me. "Go on…" I usher her, and turn more fully to look at her.

"Well, you took the flowers and without a word you went on to soak up the glories of other people." She glances at me then. "By the time I realized it was you online, we were already so deep in everything that I didn't know what to do."

"Yeah, but why not tell me then?"

"Do you not understand what I'm saying?" She sighs leaning back against the seat. "I was scared to, because I was already invested in you. I liked you; I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want to ruin what we were creating together." Her voice is very small. "I didn't want to be abandoned when you went on to better things, because I feel like I'm dispensable."

I feel the fragility in what she is saying and though I try to walk softly, I feel myself crushing on her soft defenses. "So you took the assignment to spy on my company so what, you could live this double existence with me? How is that better?"

"It was the only way I could figure that I could maybe get into your life in person and win your affection from myself." She shakes her head, "Or whatever. I just thought I had a plan and then you left Richard and I wasn't able to disconnect Ally because I didn't want you to suffer."

"Oh." I didn't think about that. That my split from Richard would have forced her to support me from a distance and sabotage her plans for winning my affection. I swallow the truth, because it really did. If I hadn't seen the tattoo I would have rejected her.

"So in a way, I have been kinda winging it the last day or so." Quinn leans against the driver's side window. "And just so you know, I liked you before I took the assignment."

"Okay." I try to let her words comfort me, but my insecurities rage to the surface again. "I liked you too."

"Yeah I know, and you have no idea how horrible it has been knowing you care about me, but you keep rejecting the real me."

I stall on the nasty quip I want to say, stamping out the anger and betrayal I feel. That mental motion abates a good portion of my anger because honestly, didn't I just get the best thing I could have ever dreamed of? I didn't have to choose. I didn't have to break anyone's heart. I got the whole package in one person.

I know I should feel grateful, like the universe did me a favor. But really, the magnitude of her qualities is so unbalanced I don't know what to do. She is so much better than me, smarter than me, self-assured, brilliant, powerful, statuesque, poised, professional, beautiful - than me… I look over at her.

I mentally slap myself. I have to remind myself that this woman **does** cares about me, and her image steals the breath from my lungs. I can see it in her eyes and the way she triple checks her mirrors to be safe. I notice the angle of her body, and though I can tell she's hurt by my words, she's turned toward me in an unconscious expression of her desire to be open to me.

This person that I'm so afraid of because they are everything I have ever wanted - wants me. Just me, for me. No conditions, no tantalizing offers, just the broken worthless mess I am. And if she really is so much better than me, and smarter, and perfect… then I must be worth something too, right? I halt my downward spiral and ease a deep breath.

"Rachel?"

"Yes?" I gently ask, glancing over, unable to meet Quinn's eyes.

"You told me to drive and I'm driving, but I can't do it all night, so I would like to have an idea of where to go." I drop my eyes to the clock, its 9:15. She's been driving for almost an hour.

"Then let's just go back to your place." I need to move around and think. As much as I like the zoom of the Lexus under me, it is poor substitute to being able to wander around on my own.

"Um, are you sure?" She doesn't look at me as she focuses on the road. "I mean would you be comfortable there?"

I almost feel a smile come on, but I stuff it down and away. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, because I didn't tell you the truth." I hear shame in her voice and I frown.

"Its okay." I admit half-heartedly and she flinches as I put my hand on her arm. I draw back. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, or fight with you. You're the two people I need most rolled into one and it's scary for me." I feel my heart slip completely open and leave me vulnerable. "You're all I have left, and I'm not sad about that."

I don't normally like exposing myself like this, and even now I don't find very much joy in it, but I know it needs to be said. I get a look from her that cores into the void in my chest, inserting a little bit of joy into the endless empty feeling. "I know and I'm still here for you." Her fingers come free of the stick and she takes my hand.

The touch sends bolts through my arm and it summons warmth into my frame. I smile a little, readjusting our fingers so I have the more dominant position with my thumb on the outside. "Oh really?" she glances down and then returns to the road.

She strokes my fingers with hers in acceptance and I flush, heating almost uncomfortably in the dark car. I pop the window and rush air in around us. It swirls my hair pleasantly and I catch Quinn staring at me. Her eyes smile.

It is so perfect here in this moment. I don't have to struggle to feel happy as it completely overcomes my barriers like waves over a break wall. I'm awash in the heartbeats as she changes lanes and I feel like I'm floating. Her gentleness tantalizes me again, as I look at her and the amazing warm glow of the dash on her face.

She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

I hear my voice say it in my head and my heart echoes it with a hammering of my pulse. I don't even care about anything else in the world. "Oh Disneyland." She says, nodding her head toward the tip of the Matterhorn, a ghostly white swirled mountain in the night.

"Cool." I say so unlike myself because I'm just, elsewhere...

The universe did me a favor and I believe it as I hold her image. And as the clock turns 9:23, the nightly fireworks from Disneyland fire off, booming. I'm staring at her, watching her face superimposed on a thousand shimmering stars as the night lights up. White, green, blue and red paint a silhouette of glitter around her as I capture the moment.

The image takes my breath away, because I love her, whether it's wrong or right.

And she has my heart as firmly as she has my hand as she squeezes it.

Because I love her and I can't pretend I don't. And even the small fraction of doubt I might have felt is evaporated and consumed in the brilliance of my feelings for her. She solidifies before me, and I only see her.

I'm swimming in the image, consumed by the perfection and blissfully inappropriate feelings I have as we pass by my old apartment's off ramp. I don't care about it. It doesn't penetrate my heart. Quinn was wrong; there will be no hard landing from my loveless marriage. How could there be when my soul is being emblazoned in every moment we spend together? I feel like Richard wrote on my soul with pencil in clumsy weak hands, whereas Quinn wields Indian ink, her dexterous grip blotting him out of existence like a blackhole swallows light.

I squeeze her hand to reciprocate her gesture, using my thumb to trace hers, leaving the spirals of starfire to pound behind us.

"You look beautiful Rachel." She whispers just above the sound of rushing wind. "I was scared I wouldn't see you smile again."

The words said in Quinn's awe inspiring voice blur in my mind and leave me a little breathless. "You're still eloquent." I whisper absently, rolling our conversations through my mind.

"Thank you." Her stomach grumbles loud enough for me to hear it and she has the wherewithal to shoot a raised eyebrow expression at her lap. It makes me laugh. "Hungry?"

"Yeah, I am." She snickers, "Obviously."

"Let's stop and get something."

Quinn taps on the steering wheel. "I don't know of any places with vegan food aside from restaurants out by me."

I feel a rush of tingling in my legs. "Do you ask them if their vegan when you eat there?"

"Yes, of course." Her plain answer makes me smile and her simple honesty warms me. "I was going to get you out to dinner one way or another." She blushes. "You know, as a friend or whatever."

"Well, now you don't have to worry about that." She turns to steal a glance.

"Why is that?"

"Well," I grin, "you get to have the best of both worlds too."

* * *

I love her laugh. And she is laughing hard. I never knew she had such a cooky kind of humor. "Okay no more." She rasps holding her side. From across the sofa I grin.

"Okay, no more jokes."

I run my toes along the bottom of her foot and she laughs lightly, moving to trace my ankle. I've never played footsies before, but I don't feel that I missed out. I wouldn't want to have done it with anyone else. We fall into comfortable silence, which is new for me too. It fills me and for the first time I realize that the quiet doesn't make me miss singing. It just leaves me happily waiting for the next words Quinn will say.

"So, you really going into work tomorrow?" She asks as her eyes trace the sofa and then lilt over to land on me. She looks surprisingly vulnerable and young like this, tucked into the sofa across from me. The sleepy time imprinted purple pajama pants don't help age her either.

"I feel it only right that I give them my notice and give them a chance to get out."

"When will you go?" I think I hear remorse and sadness for a moment.

"Whenever I get around to it." I bite my lip debating, relishing in the friendliness of our current tempo, but daring for more. "I can always wait until Monday, if properly dissuaded." I'm flirting and part of me hopes she takes the bait, the other part is just scared as hell that she will.

"Oh yeah?" There is a spark in her green and gold eyes that physically winds me with its ferocity. She smiles mildly a moment later. "What is the proper technique for dissuading you?" She rolls her toes under the edge of the sleep pants I'm wearing and they caresses up my calf. She moves up behind my knee and I feel my eyebrow arch as I stare at her.

"What are you doing?" I whisper as my voice dampens.

"I'm working on figuring out how to coerce you to stay."

"Just ask me to stay." I redirect her advances. Not because I don't want it, but I honestly realize how consuming it is.

"Stay?"

I think about playing with her and saying no, but surprisingly she has a fragile look of hope on her face. "Okay."

She grins happily, and almost hums a little as she reclines back into the sofa. I too, feel a decompression of stress in my shoulders. I know it will be worse by Monday, but at least for tonight, I'm free of the obligation and the pressure.

"Hey Rachel?" I lean back regarding her.

"Yes?"

"Truth or dare?"

I laugh obnoxiously as I hear those words. "Oh wow, no. Last time I played that game some rather off-color things went down."

Quinn nods smiling. "I think the same thing happened for me." She pretends to think. "I actually think it was rather wild and fun though." She shrugs easily, "How about truth, truth?"

I catch her eyes. "Just ask me what you want to; we don't have to disguise it in a game."

She crosses her arms over her chest, and I read how uncomfortable she is in that motion. I clear my throat and sit up, moving closer. "Truth." I whisper leaning against the back of the sofa and feeling it threaten to melt away and drop me to the floor.

I sink into it and give up, shifting to lean against Quinn's legs. She laughs and then smiles and then grows very serious. "Do you want to have sex with me?"

I know my eyebrows shoot into my hairline. I'm not used to having someone up the ante on me and catch me off guard. That is normally my role. I clear my throat, aware for the first time of how uncomfortable this position can be. I busy myself with staring at the fibers of the tan couch. "Yes."

I feel her take a breath and exhale a tension I didn't know she had. I smile a little, glad I could alleviate her concern. "Truth or truth?"

"um… why don't I have any choices?" She jokes. "Truth."

"Do you have other tattoos?"

"Yes. On my back, right at the base of my neck."

"Really?"

She nods. "Yeah, that is why I don't wear sloping necklines, because I don't want anyone to see it at work." She shrugs. "It probably wasn't the best place to get it since, you know, I'm always in work clothes and it limits what I can wear."

I tug on her sleep pants, "Yeah, this is my favorite boardroom outfit."

"Yeah mine too." She pulls her hair free of its tie and ruffles her hair out. It almost feels like a physical blow to my guts as everything six inches below it takes notice. "That was two questions by the way."

"The word 'really' shouldn't count, but okay…"

"Spoil sport." Quinn traces her hand through her hair, combing it into order. She rolls a little onto her side, getting more comfortable. "How nervous are you to have sex with me?"

I roll my eyes. Every time she says the word sex I feel like I'm gonna tear out of my skin. The more I think about it, the more I want to do it. "Incredibly nervous, but that is just because I've only fantasized about it and I don't want to suck."

"I don't think I could ever think you suck." She catches my eyes as they bounce around nervously. I feel the seriousness of her words in her gaze. She smiles. "I'll tell you a little secret and I promise it isn't as convoluted as the sentence I said a second ago." In effect she pokes me in the back with her foot and then swirls it around gently. "Just touch me the same way you touch yourself and that will be a better head start than anyone could ever have. I have found that when I do that, it seems to work just fine."

I nod as color cruises up my neck. I don't know why I'm blushing. It isn't like I haven't had sex. It isn't like I haven't had conversations like this before. It just feels so, different. "Truth or… you know."

"Yeah?" Her voice is husky and distracted. I feel her eyes on me. I look up and follow her gaze as it cuts a path down my curled form and then cut across to focus on my hands.

"What are you thinking right now?"

"About your hands on me."

I blow out my breath because I'm not a guy and can't blow my wad right at that moment. Her eyes drift up and I'm captured by the image of her as I see her breath increase slightly. "What was I doing?"

"Everything I have ever wanted you to." She swallows. I watch the skin of her neck move with the motion.

I turn into a puddle under the intensity of her eyes and I watch them darken as she continues to think. I take a deep breath and I realize I can smell her skin and something else, warm and wet and I realize its _her_. Her arousal, her desire, and my body responds automatically, clenching. I feel myself come unglued.

I try to form words, but I can't. Instead I palm the sofa cushions and crawl up toward her. She makes a small sound, somewhere between a whine and a cry as her eyes grow wider. My shadow falls over her face and I my arms start shaking as she leans back a little, allowing me to move over her.

I lick my lips summoning all my courage. "I want to touch you."

She's staring at my mouth. "I want you to touch me."

I move closer dragging her eyes to mine as I close the distance. Again, we breathe the same air. "Do you taste as good everywhere as your mouth does?"

I think I hear her heart stop and a pleading look passes over her face. "Oh my god, I didn't know you could talk like this." My stomach flips as I hear her voice wind-whipped with tension and excitement. It makes my body tremble.

"Do you like it?" I ask slowly, dragging the words out, teasing her by drawing my lips nearer and then pulling back. I flick my eyes between her eyes and lips, watching as she prepares for the kiss and then bites her lip.

"So much."

I smile and she echoes it.

"Rachel?" She pulls back a little to see my face better. I tilt my head to stretch my shoulder. Her hand comes up and touches the muscles softly, then with more confidence. It threatens to crumble my arm and I shift my weight so I don't collapse. I close my eyes.

"Yes?"

"Open your eyes." Her hand stops and I obey the command in her voice. Her eyes bounce back and forth across mine. I see her nervousness and it makes me tremble with a different kind of emotion.

"What is it?" I prod, as my anxiety builds, stamping down on my arousal. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm in love with you"

I swallow, shocked and a little taken aback. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I settle my stomach. "If I say I love you too, does that make me crazy?"

"No, am I crazy?"

"No, but I do love you too." I keep talking as she fixes me in a death lock with her eyes, her hand coming down to clamp hard on my arm. "I mean we might have only been face to face for four days, but we have been talking for four months. I count that time because I started falling for you then."

"I count it too." She sits up a little. "I was scared you didn't feel the same." Quinn clears her throat against the sudden emotion I hear spill into it. "Rachel, I love you."

And I feel my fears slip away about everything when she says those words with such confidence. "And now that you know that I do?" I ask wondering how I ever made it through a single day without her soft words and warm heart.

She smiles lazily and content. "Where were we?" Her hand strokes my arm and I happily return to teasing her with promises of more to come.

* * *

A/N: 7 more chapters after tonight for all of you asking. :)


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Where were we indeed.

* * *

Chapter 16

Like its cut from my most private fantasy, Quinn stands against the doorway to her room. I remember this, and it had more effect now that I'm confronted with the reality, the blissfully perfect beauty that drips smiles from her eyes as she looks at me. "Rachel?"

She's calling me and I'm frozen, my feet caught in the ice of my memories, realizing the crash of reality so abruptly that my spine melts. The fire in my heart dissolves the shards that hold me at bay and I move forward slowly, bare feet padding over the floor, allowing me to close the distance between us.

"Come with me." She whispers and her hands find mine and twine our fingers together. She pushes from the wall shakily and I reach out, securing her with a firm grip. I'm dizzy, I realize as she and I stumble into her bedroom. "I'm all rubbery." She laughs a little and I grin.

The door shuts with a pop, sealing us away. "Yeah, well… good thing we are so close cause you would have had to carry me if it were five feet further."

She spins toward me as my momentum ends in her arms. "I would have." She pecks a kiss to my nose and then she circles me, playing with my hair, pulling it between her fingers. "I'm sure I can."

I lock eyes with her. "Well, sometime then." I flash an image of Richard carrying me over the threshold and I shake it away as it invades my warm pocket of happiness. "So, I'm in your bedroom…"

Quinn laughs. "You're in my heart too." Its just cheesy enough to make me smile and hiccup a charge of something wonderful through the nerves in my body

She pulls me back with her and in a swirl of cotton and her shampoo we fall. And I'm falling over and over as I hold her against me. "Which one is better?"

"Room or heart?" I scoff, my hands aching to touch her. "Room of course."

The initial thrill of falling into her bed is still humming through me as I tease her lips with mine. The cotton is so soft, warm, cradling me with the same reverence as her arms. I hyper focus on my right hand as it melts over the curves of her side. She anchors me with her gaze, coaxing my hands to grow strength and certainty.

There is something in the way she looks at me as I hover my lips over hers, something that I have never seen before and it lights the fire in my soul. I think its trust. And that word is so overused and under appreciated. To trust another person, really trust them, you have to know them. And I can't help but feel that Quinn knows me better than anyone.

She smiles softly, "You going to tease me some more?" Her eyes search my face.

I smile briefly and then I'm swept in a wave of emotion as I catch them and we focus on one another. I have never seen them this close. They are hazel, yes, but more than that. There is star fire around the pupil, varying degrees of gold and brown that infiltrates the light green. Her eyes dodge back and forth and the color churns as the light and shadow play over them. "No, no more teasing."

I know my tone betrays me. I press down, melting my lips against hers. In dramatic difference to our first kiss, there is no forwardness now. We both know where this road is leading and it is the first time in my life I want to take my time. I want to drag the kisses on forever.

Her hands stop tracing my back as I touch my tongue to her lips and she parts them for me. I open my eyes, focusing on images of her closed lids and blonde hair. I just can't believe it's her- always her somehow in this crazy world. I relish in the gentle touches of her mouth.

It's so different to feel soft lips and skin under my own, instead of five o'clock shadow scratching and burning my face. I shiver realizing I have the control I so desperately need, a modicum of surrender echoing in her touches. Her hands begin tracing patterns on my skin as she draws me closer under the gentleness of her hands.

I make small stroking patterns against her bottom lip with the tip of my tongue and when she opens her mouth again I slip my tongue inside, feeling the texture of her teeth. They are sharp and smooth; I slip over them in exploration. Her tongue touches the underside of mine, focusing my attention on the artful and soft motions as it moves against mine. Her hands trace on my back more reverently, sparking small jolts that race after her fingers.

Quinn is so soft everywhere, I realize as I draw closer, settling firmly against her. I can feel her breasts against my chest and it coats my reality in passion. Firm and soft, they give as I breathe and our forms press together.

I take my time, my want and desire tempered by the explosion of new sensations rampaging through me. I taste her lips, a mix between fruit punch and strawberry chapstick. I smile, breaking the kiss. It is the everyday moment of that, something so common that states definitively: this is real.

This is it. This is what it was always about.

"You're a great kisser, Rachel." Quinn whispers bringing me from my thoughts to focus on her.

And I laugh a little as her words send a jolt through me. "Because of you."

"I find that hard to believe. I didn't teach you anything." Her hands press on my lower back, firming me closer, and I feel the heat between her thighs. It makes the breath catch in my throat, as every synapse fires my attention to where my thigh is resting. I glance up at her and she knows what I'm feeling, a smile playing on her lips. "Because of you." She echoes my words.

I want to say something sweet and complimentary, but the pull of my hormones is so great I can't control myself. Her mouth opens slightly as I apply pressure, sliding against the seam of her pajamas slowly. She rolls her eyes closed. I know this is what I would want if the roles we reversed.

"You sure," she swallows exaggeratedly, "you haven't done this before." She grits her teeth her nostrils flaring. The thin material between us doesn't hide anything, my body betraying, hers offering up the same revelations. I can hardly think except to drum a constant mantra of gratefulness to whatever being made this possible.

"Does that mean I'm doing it right?" I do it again, her hands firming on my back in a claiming motion, demanding silently that I keep going.

"Yeah." Its strangled, breathy. The sound plays against my ears as I stare at her. She claims her lip with teeth as she moves back against me. Its perfection. My arm trembles dangerously, and I battle through it. I don't want this to end. Nothing could be better than the feel of this, the slow grind of her body against mine threatens to drop me into oblivion. Emboldened by her soft gasping sounds I let my hand slip over the curve of her breast, resting the palm against the hardening nipple.

She crashes her lips against mine in response. Her hand comes up, framing on the outer curve of my ribcage, her palm pressing on the side of my breast. I don't think I have ever felt anything so intimate or so right. I can't describe it, the way it makes me feel as she uses the leverage to pull me into her. I shudder and sigh, my mind spinning as I go between how I feel and what I feel.

I squeeze her breast in a kneading motion, I play off my own desires, hoping that I'm doing it right. She issues a soft cry and I take it as a success repeating the motion. She breaks the kiss, humming approval. "A little harder."

I comply, my body tensing as she cries out mutely and smiles satisfied, "Like that."

"I'll have to work on it." I admit closing my eyes to memorize the pressure and feel.

"Hmm… I don't think work is what you need."

I smile and bite my lip absently. "I'll practice."

"I'm willing." She whispers laughing.

"You're too willing." I kiss her again, because I can't get enough of the way it feels.

I quiver and wince as my shoulder says enough is enough. I break the kiss. "I'm sorry, I have to move." I pull back and sit up, and am caught with the stark shot of loss as we pull apart.

I trace her body with my eyes, devouring the beauty before me as I struggle to understand the cascade of emotion that leaves me breathless.

She surges up, her abdominal muscles outlining as she sits up, and wraps me in a kiss that shatters my whole existence. Her lips move away, frantically kissing and pulling and carving marks on my neck. I open my mouth and scramble for air, the touches turning my insides to liquid.

"God, I need you." She moans against the skin of my neck and I catch my breath on the blind desire hooked within me. I can hardly sit upright, and I smooth back down wrapped in her everything as we twine together.

"I need you too, but I want to feel you more." I smile ruefully, "Is that okay?" I hope she says yes because I have never taken my time before. I think that is the defining difference between a straight woman and one who isn't. I can go through the motions, and I have, but right now I'm drunk on need and desire and I never want it to end.

"Yes, but you're gonna kill me." Quinn laughs tilting her head back into the pillows.

I stare at the arch in her neck and watching her pulse beat hammers me. I lean down tasting the column of neck before me. Her laughs die in her throat and against my forehead I feel her smile. I like it, learning her. I pull back, dragging my lips in slow lines against soft skin. "Where is your skin the softest?" I question as I investigate behind her ear and pull the lobe in my mouth.

She sighs, "Don't you want to find out for yourself?"

I nod, pulling with my teeth. She moans softly and it throbs in my stomach making my body jerk internally, I shudder. I don't know if it my motions, or the soft almost inaudible cry that leaves my lips, but I feel her tremble.

I hum approval and before leaving her ear I whisper something naughty and warm and I relish in the jolt it shoots through her, driving her body into a flushed pool of want. "I can't wait to check between your thighs on my search."

I slide down, staring at her face as she props the pillow behind her head. Its pathetic, how wet and turned on I am. I can hardly stand the thundering inside me at these new images. I pause over the mound of her breast and graze my lips over the nipple, the coarseness of the cotton shirt surprising against my mouth. She bites her lip between a row of white teeth. I can feet it hardening and I press my mouth against the material, blowing hot breath through it.

"Oh Rachel, that's, oh wow."

I smile. "I like it too."

"Done to you?" She clarifies softly.

"Yes." I run my nose over the hard nipple and smile, "Not there, that's not soft at all."

Quinn laughs, "No, I don't think so."

I move further down, my hands moving without command, sliding up to lift the edge of her shirt. The cloth bunches below my chin and I lift up enough to slip it over the swell of her breasts. I firm my eyes on her skin, on the soft pliant flesh, and I lean in to press a kiss to the darker skin, feeling the ridges against my mouth. "You're so beautiful." I whisper absently, transfixed as I pull away.

She doesn't answer, I just watch her shudder. I glance up at her and her eyes are closed, her hands beside her head, clamped around her pillow. It's so sweet and trusting, it makes me smile. I stare at the shimmer of my saliva on her skin and lean back in, drawing a line down her side. Her abdomen jolts, and her voice comes out cloudy with desire. "That tickles." I place a kiss and then center myself, dragging my tongue down the taut skin of her stomach. I can smell her again, and it is so similar yet different from me. Heavy and wet and, it makes my mouth water.

I nuzzle the skin of her abdomen, closing my eyes. I rest my head against her. There are so many things I want to do, so many emotions threatening the strings on my heart. I feel her hand slide through my short hair, musing it between her fingers.

"Rachel?"

"Yes?" I whisper anchoring my hands on her hips. I squeeze the firmness of bone and muscle, my thumbs pressing. I hear her sigh.

"Touch me, I can't stand it anymore."

I smile against the soft skin and peck kisses. "You wanted me to go hunting, remember."

"I changed my mind because you'll feel it if you touch me." I get the chills from her words. She is staring at me, and I look up at her, finding her eyes. She bites her lips and I tumble into the image of her.

"Where do you want me to touch you?" She smirks and it makes me laugh. "Okay. I know that look."

I watch as she grabs the material pressed up over her breasts and she pulls it free in a wave of blonde hair. I slide my hands over the elastic of her pajama pants and hook my fingers in it. My heart hammers in my ears as I pull them down, my eyes following the exposure of skin, her tattoo, more skin. I pause my motions and trace the inked skin with my eyes before I kiss it.

I keep my mouth there, noticing the small jolts and quivers it sends through her body. My hands pull her pants down the rest of the way, pressing down as far as I can without losing my lock on her soft skin. I kiss down a little, feeling the exhilaration of knowing she is bare to me. I can't fathom it.

I lift my head to the quiet pensive look on her face. "I love your skin."

She takes a deep breath and I watch her chest rise and then fall jaggedly as I kiss her hip again. "Come here."

I obey because really, there is nothing I want more than to give her what she wants. I shift over and feel the bed vibrate as she kicks her pants down her calves and off the edge. Her hands make quick work of my shirt, pausing briefly to touch the expanse of skin between my breasts. It is strange, how her hand goes there, but the warmth of the touch fills my chest.

I'm strung out on her as she pulls me over, her hands weaving across my back as they travel down, further and further, building expectation in my belly. I kiss her mouth, distracting her as her hands slow and become less apt, more sloppy in their motions. She laughs into my mouth and pulls away. "Stop it, I want to feel you."

"You are feeling me." I play until I see the desperation in her face. "Okay, I'm sorry, its your turn."

She doesn't waste time, her fingers baring me and she grapples with my bare hip, dragging me to the bed beside her. It feels so sexy and erotic as her hungry arms pull me in, and I feel her skin slide over mine. I can't help the loud overwhelming moan that rushes from my throat.

Her lips are everywhere, hands following suit. I can feel her in the dark behind my eyelids, her motions cataloging, measuring and studying me. Every motion, every moan, every flicker of stars in my heart she memorizes. She is so close that the heat of her skin leaves a mark against me as I sprawl out across her.

My teasing has dared her to see if she can drive me insane. "I need you baby." She burrs against my ear as her fingers trace a line up over my hip and down the crease of my pelvis. She knowingly stops right before she touches the spot that makes me quiver. Her fingers trace alluringly. "Please."

I remember the promise that I wouldn't make her beg too much. I smile. "Okay."

I roll over and she slips her thighs over mine to straddle me. From here, above me I take in her form. I yearn to watch her move over me in the throes of passion. "Do you like this position?" I ask, my mind wandering with my hands as I clamp on her hips.

"Yes." Quinn presses back lightly as I bent my knees, giving her a makeshift seat in my lap. She arches back, sending me in a dizzying circle of desire. I reach up, palming her firm breasts, and tracing down as she rests on me lightly, drizzling her wetness across my abdomen. I moan at the touch and the sight before me. "You like it too, huh?"

I nod silently and she cracks a smile feeling the motion. "Good. I want you to see me, because I know you need this."

And I do.

I thread my fingertips down her thighs, feeling the muscles tighten pleasantly. She circles her hips slowly, edging my hands closer. I smile, my eyes focusing on the neat boxing of golden curls and I slide my thumb up, brushing through them. A groan rolls from her mouth as her eyes drag closed. I watch her expression shift as I do it again, her jaw fluttering open and closed, her breasts quivering with the sudden sparks inside her.

I know what she is feeling. I press harder with my thumb, slipping through her folds, and catching the swollen nub with the pad of my finger. I circle it once, feeling her hips move in time, watching her eyes flutter open to pin me. She catches her lip, making my chest hurt with the sensuality. "Do you like this?" She whispers.

I can't even breathe so I don't know how I'll answer her. I just nod, fighting the instinctual half-lidding of my eyes so I can see every motions and change in her face. I keep going, circling slowly with the same pressure I use. Her lips pop free of her teeth and she moans. The sound makes my arms heavy with desire and I don't think I can keep touching her. She is like trying to hold liquid sunlight, her skin shifting in my hands, escaping and flowing back.

I turn my wrist and slide through her wetness, my fingers mapping a trail straight to her opening. "Oh god, yes."

I feel my own body quivering deliciously, echoing off hers as I absorb the passion between us. "Yes?"

She comes down from her sitting position, palming the bed beside my shoulders. I have never seen this expression, this love and pain and desire that seems to swallow her face. Her wave of light hair swirls around me, coating my reality in the lull of citrus and blocks the meager light trailing into the room. "Please baby, yes."

She doesn't have to ask again as I replace my fingertips and press them into her. It hits me like a physical blow as she stretches around me, incredibly wet for _me_. I feel her muscles, the texture inside her, the fit, the stretch, the warmth. She claims my lips and I swallow her moans as I glide in and out in deep slow strokes.

She moves with me, against me, interchanging the rhythm so I'm lost trying to follow. I firm my hand on her hips pausing the other inside her. She breaks my kiss with hurried breaths. "Why, stop?" She whines.

"I'm controlling this." And I can't believe my voice, or my words. I feel her shiver. She eyes me knowingly.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

She nods exhaling a deep breath. I know how hard it is; when you know how you want something done, to let someone else fumble around for it. I know she wants to tear out of her skin. It makes me love her that she relents. "Then I want you to take me."

I'm more than willing to as I claim her mouth, caressing her tongue with my own, tasting her lips. "You are so beautiful." I state as I began a smooth in and out motion. I drive her harder and slower, then faster, angling my fingers to hit the softness of what I hope is her g-spot.

Quinn about shoots off the bed as her cries change from impassioned to urgent. With every motion I feel more and more resistance. I smooth her back up, watching the bounce of her breasts as she moves over me, exquisite and perfect. She's huffing torn breaths and loud moans, straining against my thrusts. I want to scream as my own orgasm builds sickeningly strong, ripping cries from my own mouth. Quinn falls back over me, crashing her lips against mine, quivering and crying as she lets me own her.

"Faster." She commands breathlessly. My arms are like Jell-o, the muscles willing me to let them rest, but I press harder and faster. She whimpers and hisses through her teeth, her lips hovering over mine.

I feel her open and I slide out and add another finger, her mouth falling open in a long guttural moan. I keep the pressure even, slowly moving deeper into her. I can feel the slow ticking of her contracting muscles through my fingers, as she stretches and allows me into her.

"God I love you." She cries as I begin again, breaking any further words as I reduce her to a throbbing quivering mess.

And somewhere between her cries and my breaths I realize I'm home.

She wrenches down on me, halting my motions as her muscles clamp down. I relish at how tight she is, and I'm powerless to move as I feel her whole body tighten to the breaking above me. I hear her saying a mantra of, oh my god, and then I realize I'm saying it too.

She drops her head and I hear her cry out with strangled breath, "God, Rachel. I've wanted this so long." And she's reading my mind as everything explodes around us, and I'm caught up in the spiral of her orgasm. Her vibrations penetrate me, dripping into my soul, trickling in the cracks of my façade. I begin as someone who is done, finished, lost and broken, and then her arms give out and I'm holding her. And she makes me new again, fixed and whole. Her breath is heavy, trembling, and I slip my fingers free, making her quiver.

"I love you." I whisper, caressing her back as she catches her breath.

Quinn lifts her head. "I think you broke me." She whispers softly planting kisses along my shoulder.

I laugh, "I think you almost broke my fingers with how tightly you were clenching."

She giggles, exhaling a large breath, "I'm sorry." I feel her hand searching out my arm and sliding down in a caress. I glance at the top of her head and smile at the motions. "Did you like it, other than when I almost broke you?"

I can tell she is biting her lip and I can read the nervousness in her tone. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Quinn nuzzles the curve of my breast, and her breath swirls teasingly over my nipple. "I haven't ever had an orgasm from penetration before." She kisses the skin beside her mouth, making my nerves stand at attention. "I like it."

She looks up and turns to rests her chin against my breast bone lightly, "I think I wanna have you try it with a strap on sometime."

I choke on the visual as it pops far too quickly into my head with enough force to make my head spin. "Oh okay." I fight for air as her eyes twinkle at me. She gets the reaction she wanted obviously, as evidenced by the grin on her face.

I almost have myself under control again when I feel her hand clamp firmly and she slides off me. I'm helpless as she lifts my hand to her lips. I know what's coming as her eyes pin me, but I'm still not ready as the slide of her tongue licks herself from my fingers.

I think it makes me orgasm, but I'm not sure because as I roll into a wave of pleasure I feel her swoop in and her lips are on mine. I taste her, and the mix of her saliva and lubrication and remnants of chapstick just about blind all my senses.

She knows I'm at the edge and she doesn't spend time playing. I don't want her to. She pulls her mouth away and I press up into her ear as she turns. "Touch me, right now… oh holy sh…" she swallows my curse with a well placed kiss.

"Naughty girl." She taunts as her hand finds my clit and circles firmly. I buck under the touches, and she keeps place miraculously. I cry something unintelligible and her mouth is on mine again, tongue darting around against mine.

I tighten up, arching into her and then my heart stops and flutters as I roll my eyes closed. I see her image swirl away from me as I involuntarily drop my head back and catapult over the edge.

She doesn't stop and I want to tell her that she has to or I might die, but wave after wave slam into me and instead of stopping and slowing she is going and going and I can't breathe or think or speak. I just scream her name like it is the last word I'll ever say as I face another mountain peak and another jaw dropping orgasmic spiral.

I feel her arms around me, her lips, her kisses. I'm lost in a soupy mess of her skin and hair and bed sheets. I feel time passing as I tremble until I can eventually open my eyes.

Quinn's gaze glitters at me. "Ho was that?"

I chuckle, "Amazing. You upped the ante on that one."

Her lips graze mine, and I realize how sore everything is. My mouth is chapped, my arms heavy, my back stiff. She pulls back and I take in her swollen pouting lips. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just tired and stiff." She smiles shyly. "Its been a while since I've been this athletic and I really didn't want this to end."

I pull her down close to me, smoothing her naked body against mine so I can feel her. I sigh. "How about we pretend it didn't and tomorrow morning we can just, pick up from here?"

"Yeah that would be perfect." She tucks into my side, pillowing her head on my shoulder. I feel her body against me and it makes my skin burn. She sighs. "Rachel?"

I glance down at her as she tilts her face up. "Yeah?"

Sometimes I find I read too much into things, other times I don't. However as I see her eyes drift and a lazy smile come over her face, I know that I'm reading everything that I need to. She can't believe its real either. "I love you."

It melts me. "I love you."

"Have sweet dreams for me?" She whispers closing her eyes.

I smile absently and correct her. "I'll have sweet dreams _of_ you."

She giggles. "That's even better."

And between the lull of her breath, the warmth of her skin and the pull of the blankets and she works a sheet over us, I discover exactly where my heart was always meant to be.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

I tighten the robe around my waist, hooking my fingers in the haphazard tie. I shiver as the cotton burs against my raw skin and reminds me of how many time Quinn and I made love throughout the night. As my muscles clench and vibrate, rallying despite my exhaustion, I shamelessly admit that I'll never be too sore or tired for her.

I blush, looking down at my toes. I've never made love like this, where I'm so satiated and yet so hungry for more. Where I feel my heart beat in synch with someone else's. It's wonderful and magical, a miracle. My wildest hopes, dreams and fantasies pale compared to the real concrete beauty of it.

I direct my gaze to her sleeping form and weather a pang of love so strong it weakens my knees. I've never opened my eyes to a fantasy before, but this morning I had. I focus on her long eye lashes and wisps of blonde hair as she peacefully sleeps. It's a face that I could get lost in, drown in and never look away from. A smile bubbles to my face as I hug myself in place of her arms. I know it must look childish, but I wallow in it as I lean back heavily on the bedroom wall, regarding her serene expression.

As I stare at her, reality begins to invade my happiness and I pause, my arms falling to my side. There is so much more I still have to do before I can be what she needs, before I can be what I need. How can I hold her and tell her I love her, if I'm still languishing in my marriage? How can I pretend that everything is perfect when I'm standing on the precipice of the world, staring into the void? I sigh heavily and approach her slowly, drawing strength the closer I get. The worn wood feels solid under my feet, almost pulling me toward her. I lightly rest my hands on the edge of the bed and lean over, swirling her scent in my nose, tasting her as my senses are reaffirmed with the proximity.

I lean in to kiss her, firming my lips to her forehead in a motion that to me is less about love and more about protection. I don't want her to get hurt. I rest lightly against her head, knowing that where I am in my life is the biggest stumbling point to my protection of her. Again I feel the rush of overwhelm. I pull back and as I do, her eyes pop open and pin me right before her arms swallow me in warmth.

I yelp out a sound somewhere between surprise and joy as she drags me into a warm envelope of her arms and pulls the blankets over us. She's grinning, stray strands of hair framing her face as she smothers me in a chaste kiss. My hands move of their own volition, drawing lazy circling patterns, soaking the sleeping warmth from Quinn's body. I inhale her scent again, twining my legs around hers to touch more of her skin. She makes me forget everything except the power of her touch.

"Robe Stealer." She plucks at the front of it, "how am I supposed to feel your skin against me if you're decent." She traces a hand through my still damp hair dropping her lips close to my ear. "And you took a shower?"

"Yes." I smile absently at the white sheet above us while she takes my ear in her mouth. I quiver with growing expectation. "You have a problem with cleanliness?" I struggle for the joke as her motions make it hard to form words.

"Maybe I like it dirty."

I laugh and squirm away a little, turning to focus on her. I drag my nails up her back slowly, watching her eyes change color and fill with passion. "Well, since you're a dirty girl, I should go." I raise an eyebrow as I rake up through the long strands and twine them in my fingers. She leans in to kiss me and I halt her motions by pulling her hair over her face. "I'm too clean, remember?"

Quinn's long fingers circle my wrists and press my hands down to the bed. I fight her playfully, pressing upward and we wrestle for dominance. And I finally give in, allowing her to hold my hands in one and pull open the robe, spreading the mile of her hot skin across me.

I growl softly against the skin of her neck, nipping it gently. She turns into the motion and steals my lips, tightening her fingers around mine. The pinch of my wedding ring shatters the moment as it grinds between our fingers. I break the kiss and her eyes glance up at our hands, "I'm sorry."

I don't know if she is apologizing for the pain it inflicted or the thoughts that stream into my mind and drop the heat of my passion to negative ten degrees. When she focuses on me I can't meet her eyes. "I have to get up."

She lets me go, sliding up and away. "Okay."

"I need to go." I hear my mouth speaking the whole time my heart is telling me to stop, put on the breaks, halt my motion as I slide off the bed and seal the robe around my waist.

"Rachel?" Quinn asks and I turn to her as she scoops the blankets around her naked body. She tugs at them, removing them from their tucking. She looks like an angel as she stands, trailing the white sheets around her body. "Baby, talk to me, what's wrong?"

Her voice is even, but I can see the panic in her eyes.

"I have to fix things."

"With Richard?" She betrays herself, her voice small like a child's.

I scoff, "No. Not with Richard." I'm caught in a laugh of incredulity that I half swallow. "I just can't do this with you while I'm still caught up in this thing with him."

"But," She cocks her head to the side. "I thought you wanted to be with me."

I focus on the multicolored insecurities she is parading around in front of me. I try to pick my words carefully to avoid hurting her. "It isn't about me wanting to be with you. I **am** with you and I plan on being with you for a long time, but I can't do any justice to what we have until I finish this part and close the chapter on this part of my life."

"So, what are you saying?" She is wheezing breath through the tightness in her chest that I can feel as well.

I'm not even sure. "I just can't play around with you this weekend with a clear conscious. I need to go to work, I need to sort that out, I need to go home and get my things."

"Hey." The softness of her voice rattles me and I look up at her. She pulls in close, one hand clasping the sheets closed while the other takes my clammy grip. It hurts, and burns, as she's before me, so beautiful and willing and open. I stare at the fine line the sheet is cutting against the fair skin of her chest.

"Let me come with you and I'll help you pack." She whispers, tracing her thumb over my fingers. "Let me support you."

"No." I can't even fathom the thought of dragging her along with me as I walk through the broken shards of my life. My own heart blood spilt is enough without the addition of hers. "This is something I have to do alone."

I see her smile at the edge of my vision, it's a knowing grin that penetrates my heart with the same force as the cold blade in my throat preventing my words. "That has been your mantra for a long time." She knows me too well. It terrifies me. "I think its time to stop walking alone."

My eyelids are so heavy with torment I can't open them as her words wash over me, threatening to breakdown something I didn't even know was there. A well crafted seal on some unknown burden I had swallowed years earlier. I realize its pride. I'm too proud to let her see my pain and insecurities. I'm afraid she will be repulsed by the imperfections I can no longer hide. I'm afraid she won't want me anymore.

"Okay."

I press my head to her chin and I relish in the feel of her breath as it stirs the hair on my forehead. I'm mourning my decision as her lips punctuate my reality with a kiss on the temple. "I love you, and I'm here." I nod, opening my eyes, tracing the late-morning sunlight splattered on the ceiling, before replacing the view with the soft curve of her neck as I burrow against it.

I realize I can't say 'I love you' back, afraid of automatic epithets. It gets stuck in my throat wrapping around the steel cutting me and makes a wash of my emotions, leaving a hollow shell. "Let's get ready."

And it is less about getting dressed than it is about steeling myself. My heart isn't beating anymore, just held open as blood rushes through, stalling on the rapidity of my anguishing thoughts. He's home, I know he is, and knowing I'll see his face makes me want to run screaming right over the edge I'm standing on.

Quinn's driving, the sleek black car slipping me closer to my old home with the accuracy of a knife in my chest, both cutting sure lines I can't stop. I try Richard's phone, no answer. My phone tones warningly of its low battery and a flurry of text messages pour through, drawing the last of the power. They leave me hanging on the last words I see.

**Come home, now.**

I had forgotten in only two days how frightening it was to hear his voice in my mind, ordering me. I had forgotten how hard my hands shake. I stare down at them as the litany of musical tones stills and dies, my phone powering down. I don't know how I ever functioned, as every muscle in my tired body winds up and gives me a headache.

"What happened?" Quinn asks me, her hand coming over in a smooth motion and capturing mine. It does nothing to abate the turmoil and I desperately wish it could.

"He texted me and told me to come home."

She doesn't say anything and really, what would she say? I swallow the rolling of my stomach, focusing on the warm pliant touch of her hand and just breathe.

It comes too quickly, the exit and the sloping off ramp. I remember the first time, just days earlier that I had traveled this with Quinn's car beside me. The look in her eyes, the same one she has now. A silent pain that she can't speak and I feel anyway as it echoes in waves through me. "It will be okay."

I nod, "Turn here."

She does and my nerves shoot warnings as we pull into the apartment parking. I know he is here. I can practically feel his eyes and words garroting me, flailing me open and making a mockery of the pain he produces. She turns the engine off and I can't move. Quinn doesn't either.

I look at the side of her face while her eyes trace the buildings before us. She's hardly breathing, just a small intake of air that leaves her chest impassive to the motion. "I'm scared."

"I am too." She whispers. "How tall is he?"

I find it funny that she is worried about that. I don't think he'll touch her or me, but the question brings new fears to my mind. "Six foot and a little."

She firms her lips in a small line. "Okay." Surprisingly she is the first one to exit the car. I feel duty bound so I open my door, sliding out as well.

We don't say much as we make our way toward my apartment. I keep my head down as we pass people, families, children playing. I draw my keys out of the pocket of my jeans and the clinks of them send chills racing through me. I strangely never want to own a key chain ever again.

I pause at the bottom of the stares. "Its up there."

"Yeah?"

"I want you to stay down here." I realize the last thing I need is her so close to this part of my life.

"Why?" She pins me.

"Because I think it will be easier for me."

Her eyes are dark with golden fire, "okay, but I can't promise I won't come up if he yells at you."

Her words make me sweat with fear. I wonder why I can't say no to her, why I let her come. It isn't like I need the added pressure of imagining her coming through the door when Richard and I are fighting. And we will fight. It is all we ever do.

"Please." I whisper, catching her hand. "Please try to resist the temptation."

She's squeezing my hand, "Okay."

I take the stairs slowly, everything telling me to turn away. I like clean breaks, ones where no one can see the others' tears or pain or anger. The key turns in the lock and opens in a hiss of air conditioned air. I look back over my shoulder at Quinn. Her eyes shimmer with silent support and I press the door open, replacing her angelic face with the darkness. I leave the door open, pooling light into the room.

Richard likes it dark, the shades drawn. Compared to the airy openness of Quinn's home, I feel like I'm suffocating. I blink, trying to make my eyes focus as I take in the sofa and the kitchen chairs. Empty. I move deeper into the room, my pulse pounding in a cacophony within my head. It is dizzying me as I force myself to put one foot in front of the other, moving deeper.

"Rachel." Richard whispers from behind me, making me jump and spin. "Who's that at the bottom of the stairs?"

I swallow as he firms his hand against the back of the door. I catch myself staring at the bright cut of sky outside. He tightens his arm and the view vanishes, cutting away hope, as he presses the door shut. My heart lodges in my throat. "A friend." I sound strangled.

"I'm glad you came home." I'm blind as I struggle to adjust my eyes. I hear him moving and I take a step further back, my calves brushing against the coffee table and making me half stumble against it.

"Careful."

It sounds half concerned and half sing-song and taunting. I recognize his typical dual tone. It reminds me of how everything he says has pride and pain, has love and hate, and undercurrents of consumption and rejection. "I'm fine."

"I missed you." He takes a step toward me and I turn my face away, finding that the only motion I can create. "Come to me." Richard's heavy breath slips over my skin.

"No." I whisper quickly. I focus on his firm features before me. His blue eyes are icy and focused judgingly on me. "I just want to get the rest of my things."

"I don't think that's true." Richard holds my arms, his hands coarse on my skin, so different and foreign from Quinn's. "I can tell you're breathing hard." I hear the intent a moment before he pulls me closer and I crush my eyes closed against the feel of him. Cologne stabs against my senses, invading the gentle scent of Quinn. He squeezes me tightly and I know he can feel the tension in my shoulders, the panic in my heartbeat. Yet, he won't let me go.

"I'm scared, that's why." I force my face from the furrowed expression I have. The words catch him and finally he releases me, backing a step away in surprise. I look around cataloguing everything. I run numbers through my head. "Being here with you isn't worth this."

"Isn't worth what?" He fixes me with a confused and angry expression. Its like watching a train wreck, as he riles and coils. It is engulfing, overpowering, like walking a razor that slices me to ribbons as I stumble along. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I slide further back, "Me?" I know I'm not frightening, but I puff up a little, piercing him with everything I have. "I'm leaving."

He intercepts me as I move toward the door and I focus on the door knob as he takes up position between me and my escape. His hands are rattling in fists. "Five years Rachel. Five years. And now you're doing this? Our fight was nothing, and now you're gone?"

He has no idea what it is like living with someone who seems to hate your existence. He doesn't know the pain, the silence, the egg shell walking I have done these past years. Richard can't comprehend the games, the fights, the losses, the wounds, and the walking nightmare he has made of my existence.

Not because he is evil.

It's because he **is**.

Himself.

The realization builds a fury I didn't know I had. I know I'm growling as I enunciate on my words, starting low in my chest until I'm able to let it go. "If you don't understand how you lost me then you're an idiot." And I let it **all** go. "You want to talk about five years. I'll tell you what five years feels like when you live in misery!"

I bear down on him, moving forward and surprisingly he backs away. "I have catered to everything you want. I have broken myself in half to accommodate everything you have ever needed! I have told you over and over that things needed to change! I swore to you that you would lose me if it didn't!" He seems to realize I'm in the dominant position because he stops and then comes at me, grabbing my wrists in a vice grip.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" He spits his words in my face and I seethe debating on if I want to knee him in the groin or not.

"Are you kidding me?" I can't help the frayed edge of my sanity as it rears its ugly head, and I laugh. "Do you live in this reality? You have no idea how much I hate you for making me hate myself."

"I never did anything to you." He lies, and I remember when everything started to fall apart, that one night, so many years ago.

"Really? And what do you call the emotional bullshit you have put me through?"

His hands tighten on my wrists painfully, as he frowns. "People fight, why do you have to be so god damn melodramatic about it?"

I hate when people tell me I'm melodramatic. I have spent a long time making sure that I don't overreact to things. Its part of why I have stayed for so long. "Let me go." I whisper low over the sound of our heated breathes.

"No." He tightens his grip further, spreading the metacarpals out under his thick fingers.

"Let me go!" I yell and struggle to pull my hands away. He's laughing at my feeble attempts as I work my hands, trying to get away. The sound lights something inside me, "Don't you laugh at me."

"What are you gonna do to stop me?"

I call his dare and release my anger at him and the situation in a profoundly white trash, crazy motion. I spit in his face.

Richard just laughs. "Is that the best you have?"

Everything slows down as adrenaline shoots through my system and I see the flicker of that monster behind his eyes. The beast I knew that always lived there is awake. His muscles seem to ripple, and his hands let me go right as he reaches back for momentum.

I don't even know I'm screaming Quinn's name, until the sound becomes the only thing I can hear. I can't even believe it is my voice, as I form her name like it is the pinnacle of my existence. It represents a singular perfection that will save me from anything that could ever hurt me.

His hand rockets toward me, and suddenly I'm blinded by sunlight and a flash so brilliant I can't focus my eyes. I'm lost, not sure if I have been hit or not, but I'm sure about the cold bitchy voice that tickles my world a second later.

"You'll never get close enough to touch her again."

Another flash of Quinn's cell phone camera rockets through my retinas and calms the perfect storm bearing down upon me.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

There is something intoxicating about power. Absolute power.

There is a saying that absolute power, corrupts absolutely; however, watching Quinn's silhouette moving into the apartment as she flashes her camera phone, the newest sleekest model chiming as it blasts flashes into the room; I know she has something else too. Yes, she has absolute power in that moment as Richard backs away from me, and turns to stare at her dumbfounded.

But she also has courage. It's beautiful and romantic and magical. There are no quipped statements about that type of control over a moment because I can't imagine that anyone has ever seen it before. Nothing is as pure or perfect and no one will ever compare.

"Give me that fucking phone!" Richard's raised voice cuts through the sudden overwhelming pain in my head and I lift my hand to my nose.

She ignores him, sliding between us, keeping him at bay from me. "You okay Rachel?" I can't answer as swirling colors threaten my reality, popping whizzing colors and white flashes as I orient on her voice and move toward it. I aim for the runny blur of her form through my squinted eyes. Every footfall drums and echoes through my head, making it feel like its gonna explode. Her back brushes me and I feel strengthened as I grapple for her.

"Yes." My voice warbles as Richard moves toward us. I stagger back, but Quinn stands firm, her hands before her holding her phone lightly. I blink away my tears and the running of my nose, trying to focus on him over her shoulder.

"What the fuck is this? Get out of my way, I'm talking to my wife!" He moves towards her and she flashes her camera at him again, stalling his motions.

"Back off." Quinn orders him and snaps another picture, pushing him back with the shocking blinding light. She slips a soft hand behind her and presses me to the right as she turns a little. "You don't deserve her and she'll never be yours again." I hold onto her shirt, my hands sweating as she continues to nudge me toward the door.

I'm latching on to her as Richard comes partially out of the dark, his sharp white teeth chomping at his angry words, glinting menacingly. "Get the fuck over here Rachel!"

I pull on her shirt as his voice frightens me, but she doesn't move, she's a human shield of everything I need. God, she's my hero. "Back the fuck up or I'll text this to a friend of mine." Richard's wild eyes orient on her and she doesn't whither under the insane look.

"What do I care?"

"Oh you'll care when the police come to get you, you mother fucker." She squares her shoulders under her loose top. "Now, back up."

He lifts his hands and saunters back with a smile on his face. "I know what this fucking blitzkrieg is about." Richard grins, "What you gonna do? Blackmail me?"

Quinn clicks her phone, "You have the idea. Rachel is going to file a police report and use this as evidence if you don't get the fuck out of her life."

Quinn saying my name brings my awareness back to myself and my face tickles and I rub at it. I pull back to recognize red smeared across my fingers. I'm bleeding. I stare dumbfounded at it, twisting my fingers to see the lines. "Quinn?"

She glances at me, "you're bleeding." I have never seen the look that passes over her face as she realizes her own words. It can only be described as bordering on homicidal. I think I see her face twitch as her jaw tightens.

"And who the fuck are you, exactly?" His teeth snap words at her like a rabid dog. Her golden eyes shift from my face and she shivers with anger.

"No one that matters." And she couldn't be more wrong because to me, she is all that matters. I think he sees it in my face, my correction of her words. I can't draw my eyes away from the side of Quinn's cheek as I pour love for her, but I feel him get even more angry. This time when he approaches, the flash of the camera doesn't stop him.

"Rachel?" His angry words are directed at me, but I look away to Quinn, so in love with her I can't even breathe. I step into the sunlight and we are so close to the freedom of open air I'm strangled by it. "Oh no you don't!" Richard lunges again and this time Quinn does move back, pressing me out of the way and onto the landing.

And about every single nerve ending in my body fractures as he puts his hands on her. I scream. The sound and motion come together in a crescendo of violence on the landing. Richard moves high, his hands straining for Quinn's phone, and she meets his attack head on.

He pushes her back, she bats him away, but he is on her again, half a foot taller trying to force past her to get to me. And I don't know how she is doing it, how she's keeping him at bay. Her hands are moving, and I can see him force up against her. She shifts and pushes back. Her hurried and angry voice is a sharp retort in the midday sunlight.

"Rachel get out of here!"

I stand there in shock as Richard gets and elbow in, making contact with her stomach. She woofs out a breath, winded and sputtering, clutching at herself as she struggles for breath. And even though I want nothing more than to leave, the sight of that, of the slow motion grimace on her face and her battle for air, rends me to pieces.

I'm running, not away, but toward. I see the jostle of his image from outside myself as I see him turn his full attention to her, his arm cocking back. That's the one small moment I need. My mind is racing, my breath hammering in my lungs, I swear I hear the rumble of thunder and then I realize it's me growling as I launch at him. I spill all of us to the ground, but I'm pleased by the satisfied crack as my fist slams into his face, right before his head cracks against the tile entryway. He tries to push me off, edging in a sharp shot to my shoulder that I barely feel. I wrap my legs around his waist and slam down again, bloodying my knuckles against his nose. The vibrations travel up my arm and everything hums, drowning the sound of Quinn's ragged breathing.

I've never hit anyone, not for real. I never thought I could, but as I make contact with the meat of his face I realize how easy it is to get past the point of no return. His eyes are pinning me with fear as my own blood drips on his face and I bite off a grin with my teeth, hitting him again.

Hands grapple for me, and I'm blind to who they belong to, struggling against them. I lash out kicking with all my strength at him as I'm dragged off. "Don't you dare touch her!" I'm screaming fury. "No one lays a finger on her, you mother fucker!"

I think its Quinn holding me, the hands are familiar as they wrap around me, struggling to maintain their grip. I don't care though, I don't. Finally I have the power to wipe him out of my life. I imagine killing him for what he has done. I see him shift to stand and I Almost tear out of her arms.

My mouth is running, saying things I have never even imagined saying, the filter on my brain clearly broken. "How does it feel to hurt, huh? Bitch, get the fuck up!"

I wrestle with her as Quinn grunts and groans behind me, straining as I attempt to pull free. "Rachel, stop. Please stop." I hear sirens mutely through the pounding of my head.

But I can't stop, because he hit her, because that _asshole_ can hurt me all he wants, but not her. My muscles strain, threatening to dislocate my shoulders as I heave and coil and tug away. "All this time I've waited for this moment. Because of all that you've done." Quinn jerks me back, yanking me away as Richard palms the ground and stands. "You son of a bitch, come get me." I claw at the railing, possessed by my anguish and fury.

"Rachel." She can't hold me anymore. "Baby please, stop." Her hands break free and I'm uncaged. But I can't charge him like I want to, as I hear her groan weakly. I turn and I can see the tears streaking her face. Tears for me and perhaps the insanity I have spiraled into.

The chatter of police radios invades the world around us and Richard backs deeper into the apartment. I'm frozen in a broken mosaic as Quinn breaks down further, heaving breath. The pain comes then, my hand, my arm – feel broken. My nose throbs. At first I fear she won't come near me and it strangles the air in my lungs.

Then she moves closer, guarding her side, a thin trail of blood leaking down her temple from her eyebrow. "Oh god baby." I whisper. She reaches out, taking my face in her hands. I forget the pain and the inability to breathe as she pulls me toward her and I hide from the world in her arms as the cavalry surrounds us.

* * *

"Can you turn your face a little to the right?" The female officer asks politely and I follow her instructions. I close my eyes as the camera flashes, and I feel like I should be angry. I think I should at the very least be upset and mortified as I'm standing against one of the white walls inside my apartment having my injuries documented.

However, all I can seem to think of is Quinn outside being interviewed by another officer. I'm afraid Richard will twist the situation and somehow get me arrested. To counter that possibility, I had sung like the proverbial canary about everything. I stare at the door as the officer shoots another blinding picture of my face.

"Please look over here." She indicates a space to her right and I focus my eyes there, as she steals a few more images. I just hope that everything I have told them is enough.

The officer snaps one last photo and slings her camera around her neck. "I'm so sorry this happened." She fiddles with the large machine around her neck. "I'm glad that the blonde girl was here and could help you defend yourself." The officer pulls close to me. "I know it isn't my place to say this, but don't come back to this."

I fixate on her words and it isn't the things she's saying, but the fact that she is saying them that gives me a little relief. I hope it means that both of them feel positive about me and aren't going to cart me off to jail. I recognize my silence makes the woman nervous and she keeps talking. "I just see this too many times. Where a husband hits his wife and she goes back, because it's the first time." She crowds my space for a moment, drawing my downcast face to hers. "I can tell you're tough, but once they break that seal, it's hard to ever get back."

"I understand." I whisper, nodding slowly as I process her words. I wish I could just say that I have no intention of ever coming back. That all I want to do is begin a new life with the 'blonde girl' who saved me from killing my husband. I swallow on my mental urges to relay the information. "Thank you."

The door opens, and Quinn comes in with her arms folded around her slim frame, the large male officer follows her in scribbling down notes. My eyes follow her and I catalogue the way she is nursing right side. I make move to go to her, but the officer's words catch me. "Ma'am?"

"Yes, officer."

"The EMTs say you're nose isn't broken, but all the same I suggest you follow up with your doctor today if possible." I nod, inching my way toward Quinn. "With any domestic abuse claim we are forced to press charges as a function of the state." My heart launches into my throat and I see Quinn sit heavily on the chair near the door. He hands me a thin white pamphlet. It is at that moment when I feel like a walking cliché as I read the title, Victims of Domestic Abuse.

It rattles me and suddenly Quinn is beside me, her hand gripping mine so tightly I can't feel anything else. The officer continues, disregarding the emotional pain he is inflicting. "We are going to draft up an emergency restraining order which you will be required to update to an official one within the next ten days." He pulls his notes out again. "You are Rachel Arlington, are there any other persons who live here with you?"

"No."

He glances at Quinn, "and your Quinn Fabray?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to include your name as well. What is your address, so he is unable to come within 500 feet of the premises."

"He doesn't know where we're staying." Quinn enunciates carefully and the inflection on the word _we're_ abates all my fears. I feel myself wind down, and my vision tunnels, dragging me into a soupy haze. I remain upright by the grip Quinn has on my hand and that's it.

"Okay." He flicks his pen and tucks it into his pocket. "Wait here."

He leaves us alone and I want to say something, but I can't. I just stare at the floor and her grip on my hand. Her hands are covered in our blood. Hers and mine. I pull away from her and wander into the kitchen. I forgo the light and stand in the dark, staring at the alien landscape, trying to remember where everything is.

I pull free a handful of paper towels, running them in the sink and wringing them out. She's behind me, and I can't voice how relieved I am that she came to me. I turn and she's close, so close I can feel the heat of her body. "I was afraid you wouldn't come near me." I whisper weakly.

"I just feel terrible." Her voice is quivering. I open the damp paper and start wiping at her bloodied fingers, erasing my sins and the dark parts of my world that have leaked all over her.

I open my mouth and nothing comes out, I try again. "because of how he hit you?" I don't look up as she hisses and I clean over a stucco burn on the back of her knuckles, where ragged skin is rubbed away.

"Because it was my job to protect you." I look up then and smile softly at the pooling tears on her bottom lash. She blinks, and they come loose. "You were amazing, and I couldn't do it. I wanted to, but I just couldn't."

"You saved me from getting grievously hurt when you came in with your ninja picture taking." I try to crack a joke and she smiles thinly. I know its hollow, but I hope she at least appreciates the attempt. "At least, he can't refute he punched me first."

"No, he can't." Quinn sighs and removes her hand from my grip, using the now clean skin to push back her wild hair. I take the other one gently.

"I don't know how you held him back for so long…" I shake my head remembering it. "You did save me, because I know he would have hurt me."

"Has he ever…" Quinn whispers low, her voice betraying that she doesn't really want to know.

"No, never before." I cut her off and take a shaky breath. He could tell that Quinn was important to me. And that was the trigger that enraged him. That and he realized I was gone and I know he put the pieces together in his mind. I stare at her hand as I wipe it clean. "I feel bad."

"I do too." She runs a hand through my hair and presses in to kiss my forehead. I huff a breath. She feels bad that we had to go through that, and I feel bad because my husband is going to jail.

I can't explain to her how my feelings tip and I justify his actions. How would I expect someone to act when confronted with the loss of someone they love? I reframe the rationale. Would I ever hit Quinn because she was leaving me? I stare up into her hazel eyes. No.

"What is it?" She brushes her nose against my head gently.

"I just realized how terrible my mind works and I hate myself." I close my eyes, silencing my thoughts. There will be no excuses this time, no reasoning, no forgiving. Not only did he dare to hurt her, but he helped to create the monster I had become. I push my hand up through her hair, regarding the butterfly bandage the EMTs had put on her eyebrow. My thumb traces the skin around it carefully.

"Don't hate yourself... Are you going to be okay?" She asks me, drawing my eyes from the small gash. I fix on her and puzzle over the jumble of my emotions, the most prevalent being that I want to be anywhere other than here.

"I don't know." And I really don't know in that moment. I know I should be upset, but having Quinn near me abates that. I know I should be hurting, but again her proximity makes me forget the pain for a little while. I'm more afraid of what will happen the moment I leave her side and the reality seeps into the foundation of my existence that she cloaks so well. "I think I'm in shock."

"I think I am too."

But until the time I have to be apart from her, I'll just try to erase the marring of her existence I feel I stamp as plainly as the blood on her hands. A marring that I'm creating just being around her. I scrub harder until the police come back.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: I owe you two chapters.

* * *

Chapter 19

The Lexus feels heavy with all my things piled in the back of it. Quinn really wasted no time. She was like a machine, as she packed my belongings, and it felt calming as her hands rolled through my things and made neat piles of my haphazard clothing. I didn't think I would ever live to see the day where I wouldn't mind someone pawing through my things. It felt like she had broken down almost all of my walls, all the little things that used to bother me seemed to no longer matter.

She had carried the bags out one at a time, packing the trunk full and then moving to the backseat. She even found my old trophy box in the closet, her hands resting on it respectfully before she met my eyes and scooped it with her. Not a word, but a quiet flicker of her eyes that told me something far more profound than anything in the English language.

This was for keeps. And the impressive power in her eyes held me in a tight weave the frightened and yet enamored me. Her motions were so sure, I felt swept up in its gravitational force.

Even now her motions are smooth as she takes the freeway exit by her house and I'm staring at her as I always seem to do. I can't place the emotions I feel as she meets my eyes, waiting for the light to change. There is such intensity I struggle to look away. I realize that if my personality is akin to a tornado, then hers is the silent ominous sky that spawns them. So much depth and vastness I have yet to understand and she is so much more powerful than me. It is there in her look, and I can't help but wonder what she is going to say when she finally does speak.

The green light comes too soon, reflecting off the green of her eyes. She focuses as she drives. I'm beginning to become used to this area, to the bizarre meeting of city and country that Corona is known for. A weaving of restaurants and cattle feed suppliers, horse trails and city streets, marking the landscape with a dueling charm. I stare out the window at them as we pass the main street area.

"Over there, that's Billy's Subs," Quinn finally speaks, pointing to a small restaurant. "It's one of the vegan places I told you about." I nod checking the street signs to remember the location. "And on this side, is that Indian place I told you about."

I nod. "Okay." There is something in her tone I can't place.

"If you turn down this street, Camden, there is a grocer with totally organic veggies and stuff." I watch as her hands tighten on the steering wheel, her right knuckles red still from the fight.

"Quinn?" My voice is shaking and I feel overwhelmed by what I think she is implying.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you telling me this?" I think I know why, but I want to know for sure. I want it to be because she wants me to stay. I watch her face tighten a little and I edge a joke. "Is it cause you're sending me shopping later?"

"I don't know why I'm saying this." And she falls silent. I continue to stare at her, waiting for her to say something, but she doesn't. I'm left wondering what I did or said to cut off the sweet things she was saying. I frown.

"What did I do?" I ask from my place. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry."

She doesn't respond. It is so strange to feel the focal point of my universe, something that I realize has become so important to me, freezing over. It shakes me to the very core of my being and leaves my already tattered emotions, torn further. It makes me angry and frustrated that I can't sort out what is happening.

The Lexus pulls into her driveway, sliding up beside my car like it is meant to be there, and I stare at my lap. The engine cuts off, stilling the air conditioner and leaves us to sit in the quiet interior. I don't move, because I'm afraid she will get angrier. I hazard a glance at her hands, her fingers flexing into fists and then relaxing rhythmically.

Without a word she gets out and I watch her as she circles the car and pops the trunk. Quinn heaves out a few items and then steps to the side, coming into view of the side mirror I'm looking at her in. There is a look of frustration on her face, so I open the door. "Can we talk about this?" I press. I move in beside her, putting my hands on my stuff and pulling it out to create a stack in the driveway. "I really think we need to talk about everything before we commit to this."

"I'm already committed." She whispers, grabbing at the bags of clothing and hefting them awkwardly. "Aren't you?"

I hear the hurt in her tone and I don't know where it is coming from. I don't understand the emotion and the anguish and the doubt that stamps itself across her features. Of course I'm committed. I wouldn't have come this far if I wasn't. She turns, leaving me to stare at her back as she walks toward the doorway.

I wrap my left hand around as much as I can, and leave the small stuff for my right hand. It hurts and it irritates me that I can't move faster and carry more, and irritates me further because it hurts. Fucking Richard taunting me even now! I drop the items at the doorway and go back for more, trying to digest through my anger.

Even in my rather illustrious imagination, I don't think I could have come up with a moving in scenario quite as backward as this one. I love her, I have no ties anymore, and yet it seems as if the fact that we are both obtainable now is creating a rift between us. Almost like I wanted her and she wanted me because it was taboo and impossible. I close the trunk on the rest of my stuff as well as my thoughts. We really have to talk.

The front porch is empty of the items I had carried, so I press in, closing the door behind me. I can see Quinn moving items around in the living room, methodically sorting between clothing and everything else. I take a moment to just look at her as she pauses and drops to her knees. She runs her hands over my old trophy box and I see a wistful look pass over her face before she pops it open.

Her long blonde hair obscures her face as she peers within and her hands move over the items. I can hear the rustle of ribbons and paper printed awards until they stop on exactly what I knew she was looking for. The trophy I had won for the senior musical, the best actress award that I had flaunted for a straight week right before graduation. She pulls it out, brushing back her hair.

It takes a moment for me to register that she is tearing up, until her cheeks are wet with drops. I want to move toward her, but I can't. I just stand rooted in place as she stares at it. I wonder what she is thinking, and while it would be logical to ask, I don't want to. I want to pretend it is because she misses my voice. I want it to be because she is still proud of the things I was once able to accomplish. I wheeze a breath.

She looks up at me suddenly; finding me in the growing darkness of the formal living room with such accuracy it frightens me. It is like she knew I was there the whole time. I hold her eyes as her lip trembles and that vast unending emotion is poured in a simple sentence. "I was so proud of you for this." She tilts the trophy toward me. "I remember just swallowing all these feelings of love for you, even then."

"I wish I would have known." I whisper coming closer and leaning against the wall. I wish I would have known so that I could have muddled through these swirling emotions then. I wonder how different my life would have been. But as much as I would have probably gone for it, I realize it wouldn't have been able to last. "Actually, I take it back. I wouldn't have been able to be good to you."

"Why do you say that?" She fixes her eyes on the gold award in her hands.

"I wasn't ready for the depth of how I feel about you now." My throat tightens uncomfortably as her tears renew. "I would have just hurt you."

"Oh." She smiles ruefully. "I still don't think you're ready, cause you hurt me when you look at me with the doubt you always have."

It feels like a sucker punch, but I freeze my face so she can't see that it hurt. I swirl through a myriad of emotions in the moments between those words and mine. "I don't have any doubt."

She laughs bitterly. "Yes you do. Don't think I didn't notice that you didn't say I love you back this morning."

Her attack catches me looking the other way and I choke on whatever I wanted to say. How is she so damn aware all the time? How does she just know seemingly everything? I want to tell her it isn't fair for her to throw that at me because I was just afraid, not doubting; however the words won't form and I just stare at her

"Say something." She edges with a twinge of anger and desperation that blend together as more tears pool.

"I don't know what you want me to say." And I'm furious that is the only thing I can think of saying because my mind goes blank on everything else instantly.

"How about anything other than nothing because I would pay everything to have **this** girl's confidence back." She rattles the trophy in her hand and it glints in the dying light, mocking me.

I regretfully go into automatic mode when her words spear though me. "I'm sorry."

"God, don't tell me you're sorry! That is the last thing I want you to say to me." It is unimaginable hard to keep it together as a sob chokes her voice out and she puts the trophy back in the box. She bows her head, her hands gripping the edge of the box tightly. I watch her eyes trace back and forth across the different colored chinsie awards as I move into the kitchen and rest on the split wall between the rooms.

"I just want you to be an equal partner with me in this, and that means you have to be honest with me and talk to me." She begins with a small sad laugh. "I don't want your 'I'm sorry's' or your 'I love yous' if they don't mean anything."

"You're saying you don't want my words of love, but you're angry I didn't say them earlier? I don't understand why you're contradicting yourself." I prod.

"Because it is all so frustrating for me, that's why. I know exactly who you are Rachel and I know that that person is there, but she is so buried in the shit of this world that she's almost gone." She caps the box and turns to fully face me, her legs sliding into an Indian style seat smoothly. "I don't know how to bring her back." I measure the hopelessness in her face and it breaks my heart silently.

I struggle to keep myself from crumbling apart. "It's just going to take time for my to build myself back up I suppose."

"I'm at the point though where I'm scared it won't ever change." She runs her hands through her hair harshly, desperately. "Because I can feel you stalling on the things you feel, keeping secrets from me, treating me like I'm your husband and I can't stop the anger I feel over that."

It's too true and makes me want to escape as she points it out. I just can't help it. I can't stop the fear that rampages through me and leaves me silent and staring and wishing that I could say the impulsive words I used to throw around so lightly. "I'm sor… I don't know what to do, Quinn, I don't."

I hold her crystalline gaze pleading silently for her to understand how I feel without the endlessly difficult task of explaining it.

She sighs angrily and wipes her eyes with the knuckles of her thumbs. "You know, the worst part is that I feel this is all my fault; this insecurity that you wear so damn well."

I don't understand and her words catch me off guard. "How is that, your fault?" I say it calmly, even though I feel like my heart has been pistol whipped by her admission.

She shakes her head solemnly. "You were a married woman and I pursued you. I forced you to investigate things that maybe you weren't ready to deal with. Things that I had wanted for a very long time, and that wasn't fair. I should have stopped when you said the word husband because it wasn't right for me to…"

"Believe me that was my choice, not yours." I finish for her, sliding down the wall to join her on the floor. I wonder if she has any idea how much her words are hurting me. And it isn't even what she is saying; it's how she is saying it, with more doubt than she has ever had the whole time I have known her. "Quinn, it isn't your fault that I am the way I am. It all happened a long time ago. I had to change to survive, you understand?"

She laughs bitterly. "But I made you compromise the last foothold you had on who you were because the Rachel I used to know would never have violated her marriage."

"Wow." Is all I can really say as she flails open my heart and razor blades whatever I have left of an emotional shield, praying on my fears of distrust. Her honesty is almost too much and I look away at the piles of my things, wondering how it got there and why I'm even still sitting here. I wonder if the shattered construct of our relationship is too fragile to bear the weight of any real emotion that isn't consisting of drama.

"I'm sorry, I just, I want you back. I want the Rachel I saw in the new hire meeting all pissy and confident." She dries her eyes again. "I saw it last night you know, and today again." She sniffs, "And in seeing that fire and spark, I realized how much I loved that about you, missed it and need that from you. But I can't get you into fist fights and fuck you to make you secure again."

I think my eyes pop out of my head as I stare at her, her words hammering in on me. I don't know what to say, or what to think. So I just sit and stare, trying to sort through the five million thoughts that pound through my head making my nose throb.

"Like right now." Quinn pleads with her hands. "Where is your retort? Where is the fire?"

"I still feel it, but I don't always say what I feel anymore." It's the truth. I'm afraid to, but I don't think it would be a good thing to say in light of the conversation. I'm afraid that I'll get yelled at, or hurt, or she'll leave. And the only thing worse that suffering in silence, is being alone.

"I need you to." She sighs irritated. "I just," She swallows, "I need you to run your mouth like you used to because I know this isn't you." She sighs. "I know that you are holding back and it hurts me more than you can imagine."

Which is why she always seems so sad and broken and in putting that piece together with the rest, somewhere I find the strength to whisper, "I'm sure I could imagine it because you have no idea how much you are hurting me right now." It stops her short when I say that, and she falls silent on whatever words she had rolling from her mouth. "Even though they are veiled, my emotions and feelings do still exist." She just stares at me looking for all the world like she is about to cry again.

"I'm sorry." She whispers finding the floor again with her eyes.

I stare at the top of her head and try to assimilate the thoughts rolling around in my head. She just wants me, for all the good and bad parts that are there. I try to remember what it was like to just say how I felt about things, without pretense or concern for self preservation.

I grab at the first thing that rushes through my mind, capturing like an elusive whisper of shadow. "You know if there is anything I feel badly about, it is that I have dragged you into such a mass amount of drama and crap in the past few days."

I think she sees it for what it is- a meager attempt to give her what she wants. Her eyes find mine slowly as she chews on words. "And that is my fault, just like I was saying." Her guilt crumbles her and she covers her face with her hands.

I stare at my hands, turning them over and over, measuring the bruise across my knuckles and the swelling. It looks hideous, and I sigh a little at how it seems to be a direct reflection of everything he ever did to make me the way I am now; a bruised and seemingly broken mass.

"No, it's my fault for waiting around for Richard to pull the plug on us because I didn't have the guts to do it myself." I shake my head as a realization washes over me as my words wash over her. I'm this way because I let him do it. It isn't anyone's fault but my own. "And in answer to your wants, I will be confident again, but it is going to take time to unlearn the things I have had ingrained in the last few years."

When I look up, Quinn is piercing me with a steeled gaze. It softens a little as we stare at one another. "I know and I understand that, but I just look at you and it kills me because I don't know how to fix you right now. I miss the impulsive need for attention you used to have."

I wish I could say how much easier it has been for me since I shut up a little, but I recognize that I'm stifled. "I don't know if I'll ever be impulse like **that** again." I shrug lightly. "And you can't fix me, don't you remember what you told me?" I smile a little as she quirks an eyebrow at me. "I just need me to fix me." She laughs a little wrapping her hands around her ankles. "But you know what?"

"What?" She fixes me with a painfully beautiful look. It looks so hopeful that it makes me smile and takes away the pain I feel as I realize how broken I am.

"I'll be okay because I have you to tell me not to apologize so much, and to tell you how I feel."

But the moment only lasts for an instant, because she is clawing at my walls again a second later, her soft words pressing in and trying to storm the gates. "Then tell me how you feel?"

I try to let it go for her. "Scared and a little angry."

"Why?"

It is understandable that people hate that question, because I really hate that question. I catalogue my feelings, trying to hold on to whatever place I'm talking from. It feels foreign and yet a little refreshing. "Well, I'm scared because I want to tell you how I feel, but I'm always afraid you will yell at me." I suddenly feel the itch for a cigarette, and I stamp down the feeling. "Richard did a lot of yelling and I have forgotten what it feels like to talk to someone you love without screaming at them."

She nods, but I know she is missing the most painful part of my admonishment. "Like right now," I point between us. "This feels normal, but I don't know what normal is." Quinn frowns deep lines of comprehension and gets up. I'm a little afraid as she comes toward me and then resumes her position right in front of me. Her knees brush against mine and the proximity steals some of my comfort. I try to press on, my voice fading to a strained whisper. "I don't think I ever knew what normal was, so you will have to bear with me."

She slides her hands over my jeaned legs and takes my hands. Hers are cold and clammy, and I brush my fingers over them, trying to warm them. "Well, I'm not going to yell, so tell me."

Quinn makes it seem so easy as she stares at me, her hazel eyes probing softly, still lit with a shimmer of emotion. It makes me want to say so many things, but the paramount becomes my desire to address my fear of losing her. "I love you, but I'm afraid that because we started in such a bad way, with me cheating on my husband, that you will never really trust me."

She doesn't even hesitate as her hands squeeze mine. "I trust you implicitly."

It makes me balk a little at the instant confidence in her voice. I'm torn between believing her and swearing she is lying to me. "Do you really?"

"Yes, because I know that you weren't happy in your marriage and I will work every day to make you happy so you never want to leave."

Her words do something in my chest that I haven't felt my whole life. I try to find something to say to express this, but I can only come up with a paltry, "that's sweet."

"It's true." Quinn adds quickly, as if those words will suddenly make me capable of actual communication. "And I know your tells for when you start to drift away, so we can talk before anything dire happens." She gives me another meaningful squeeze.

It's all such a nice idea, but I realize it hinges on me actually talking, which makes it hard. Especially now with her beautiful eyes smiling at me with something close to peace. "Okay, that sounds good." But I know that I when my actual thoughts come up, and I grab at them, I'm poking at her soft underbelly. "And you? How do I know you won't pull away?"

The mixed emotion rush that creases her brow and clouds her eyes let's me know that I hurt her. I'm close enough that the intimacy of that honest look hurts me too. She has, after all carried a torch for me for some time, so I really shouldn't have to question her commitment. "Because I'm a talker and that's why we are talking. Because I know when I'm shutting down and I was earlier, but I feel better now."

Her words shock me and I feel my face screw up into an angry and wounded expression. "God, that really hurts to hear that." I pull my hands away from hers. "I am trying to give you so much and you're telling me that in the worst part you are pulling away." I stand up quickly, because any place is better than next to her as she says things that crush the fundamental fabric of my only support.

I move over to the sliding back door, and stare through the darkness. I need a nicotine fix so I can think. Normally, I don't have these urges, but the prickle of need becomes overwhelming as she slides up beside me. I grab at the first thing I think of. "Jesus, that makes me feel like an asshole for loving you."

I didn't know it would be that though, and I can see the effect it has as the muscles in her jaw bunch like she's been slapped in the face. "Please don't say that." Her usual strong tone is dwarfed by the ragged breath she lets go. "I just meant that I felt guilty for not being able to protect you."

I glance at her as she pushes straw colored strands behind her ear and focuses her eyes at the world beyond the glass doors. "It was that pain plus the fact that you lie to my face by omission that I felt like I was shutting down."

"I need a cigarette."

She looks over at me dazed by my response. "I didn't know you smoke."

I shrug. "I don't, not really, but I really want one now." I arch my eyebrows daring her to stop me. When she doesn't move or blink or breathe I turn to my purse and dig into it with rough hands. My back is to her, so I know she can't see the grimace and my struggle for composure. Lie by omission… fuck. I bite back on the wail of anguish that builds up in the back of my throat.

"Why did you blurt that out?" Quinn asks softly as I don't look at her and go straight for the back door.

I press it open, struggling for air. She flips on a light, illuminating a small brick patio area. Idly I realize we have talked for so long that the sun has leaked out of the sky. I flip open the pack as I stare out at the darkness beyond the patio. I hear her close the door and I turn to her, lighter in hand.

"I blurted it out because you telling me that I lie by omission is the worst things you could ever say to me." I flick the lighter and spark it to life in my hands. Her eyes trail the flame and fix on the cigarette in my mouth as I puff on it and then blow a plume of smoke.

"Why is that?" And for a second I'm not sure if she is asking why I smoke, or why it is the worst thing she could say to me.

I assume it is the lying part. "Because I never want to lie to you and it refutes what you said about trusting me implicitly."

She nods and then walks over to the side of the house. It gives me a moment to collect myself. It has been a long time for me to admit that something hurts before it produces the killing blow. I don't know how I will face her when she comes back. I don't know how to reconcile the pain of my emotions and the knowledge that she is aware that it hurts.

She flips on an exterior light and behind me, the yard sparks to life. I turn to the pooling of light, noting that she has a long oval pool. I stare at the water as she returns with a flower pot. She sets it down on the table near me and I appreciate the gesture. However I can't voice that, I just ash inside and turn to stare at her. "You know, you can't trust someone that lies to you."

She crosses her arms as she regards me. "No I guess you can't. But I'll try, if you try."

I nod slowly letting the silence stretch out between us. "I didn't know you had a pool." I say pointing stupidly at it.

"Oh, yeah." She looks at it, and it successfully breaks her focus on my face. "Was that another deflection tactic?" She smirks turning back.

"Yes."

"I'm getting better at this."

I want to tell her so many things, but instead I suck on the filter of my cigarette and blow smoke in the sky. I watch the swirls as they linger around us. Everything in my life feels like a haze, except one thing. I look over at her. I want her to be happy, more than anything in the whole world.

"You know Quinn, I just want to make you happy." My words, spoken from the unabashed honestly of my heart bring her head around. She smiles softly and ducks her head a little. "I don't really care what I have to do, but I just want to do what you need me to do."

"It isn't about what I need as much as it is about you reclaiming what you have lost." She sighs moving toward me. I put out the cigarette in the flower pot and turn to her as she bumps her shoulder against mine affectionately. "I know that when you get to that place, amazing things are going to happen for you and us."

I lean into her, finding that talking about things that matter isn't nearly as scary with someone who loves me. "Like what?"

"Like you'll sing again and fill that void in your heart." She tilts her head against mine and I laugh a little at her words, wishing that were the case.

"Doubtful, but thank you."

"Actually, it isn't at all. You will be who you wanted to be babe." She slides in behind me and I lean into her as she wraps her arms around me. We slide together so well. That singular thought rumbles around inside me and makes the butterflies in my abdomen bounce around. Her chin comes down to rest lightly on my shoulder and her lips close to my ear rake chills down my side. "I believe in you."

I try to not let the words hammer quite so hard in the expanse of my heart, but they do with a fury that almost winds me. Her faith and her love make me feel wildly sure of myself, but I cover it in a joke to ease the thundering of my heart. "I believe in unicorns, but that doesn't make them real."

She smiles again the shell of my ear and I close my eyes. "Well, you'll see when you get there."

We fall into a comfortable silence that stretches as I listen to the sounds of the night. The gentle lap of the water, the cars and a dog in the distance barking in short snaps. I hear a cricket or two somewhere in the yard. It's peaceful and I acknowledge being in her arms makes me feel safe even though we have exposed something. I know we have passed beyond a boarder that I haven't moved past before.

And even though I'm vulnerable, I know she isn't going to hurt me. Her arms tighten and I sigh involuntarily.

"So what now?" I don't even recognize my voice as I'm lulled peacefully into warmth that is all for me. And I let myself feel it, without fear and guilt. It fills me.

"In the grand scheme? We love each other and make it work, because I do love you." Quinn's words fade out a little as a kiss tickles my temple and I smile.

"And I love you Quinn. I'm going to try hard to remember who I was." I pull a little out of her arms so I can face her and hold her gaze with mine. I need her to believe it because I know if we want to have a chance, she needs to know I'm serious.

Her blonde head bobs in a nod as she smiles slightly. "I'll help."

This time I'm the one beaming from ear to ear. "You already have." Her happiness matches mine. "And in the short term, what do you want to do?"

"We put your things away and we wrap up the deal with your work."

"I don't want to put the things away right now."

She eyes me with skepticism. "Well, what do you want to do?"

I think about it as I look back in a sweep across the yard. "Embrace my impulsive need for attention?"

"Oh yeah, how so?" She gets a devious glint in her eye and I realize the power I have over her as she bites her lip, hanging onto my words.

And though I would love to be a pervert I feel an overwhelming need to do something else. Something I have always wanted to do. I bolt out of her arms and race toward the pool. I don't bother with my jeans or shirt, but I grapple for my tennis shoes and throw them off right before I hit the edge and plunge headfirst into the water.

It's insane! And as the air stalls in my lungs from the frigid water. I come up to the surface into the Doppler effect of Quinn's scream as she hurls toward me. All I see is a flash of light hair before her mass displaces water and it submerges my head in a wave.

She comes up a moment later with a yell on her lips and I spit water from her deluge. "Damn it's cold!" I slide over to the edge, gripping the cool cement to keep from being dragged down by my jeans.

I grin at her as she shifts around, treading water – showing off. The water and light cast interesting shadows over her face. I never thought straining panted breathes could look so artful and amazing. It does admittedly make me a little horny watching her breath hard and drip water down her smooth features. "If you're cold then stare at my see-through shirt and let the thoughts warm you."

Quinn dips her eyes for a moment to the front of me under the water line, the cold water and white shirt playing interesting tricks on my body. She sinks a little in the water as she forgets to kick a few times. Finally she grabs the edge and breathily laughs. "You are terrible."

I smile. My legs dangle and float a little as I relax in the coolness. It feels good to just be and exist, without threat or pang of concern. It feels so right. I open my eyes and realize I didn't even know they had slid closed, a testament to my new found place in the world.

I turn to my beautiful girlfriend and trace the side of her face. Girlfriend… the word tastes good and I roll it around, reveling in it. She turns away from me a little and I spy a thick design inked on her back. Her other tattoo presents itself through the white of her t-shirt. It imprints on my mind, so familiar to me that I instantly remember the smell of synagogue and the warmth of knowing I was less alone in the world.

It's a _Chai_, the Jewish symbol for life. The rush of love I feel is indescribable because really, why would she get that if not for me? It's for the little silver necklace that I wore senior year of high school and still have to this day. And I can't believe it is printed on her body, punctuated against the smooth skin over her back. I can't believe I had her naked in bed and never saw it.

She turns back to me and gives me a lazy smile. "What is it?"

I don't even know what to say, so I pull the first thing that comes to mind. "Remember when I asked you about the lake or the ocean and you said you liked lakes better?"

She laughs a little, switching hands so she can continue to hold herself up at the edge. "Yeah, you coming around to see things my way?"

I let the lapping of the water lull me as I move a little closer and thread my legs around hers. "No, but I think I like pools for certain things."

She raises an eyebrow, her eyes almost aquamarine in the pool lighting. "Oh yeah? What things?" Quinn gives me a rakish grin.

"Come here and I'll show you, baby." And she is more than happy to oblige.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The light shines between the ripples making the pool water shimmer in the wake of our bodies connecting. I just about moan out my appreciation, so swept up and swept away by the feelings thrumming through me. Quinn drops her lips on mine and the gentle motion feels like a hammer against my senses. The chlorine burns my nose as I wolf down breaths, unable to get enough air as she steals it with hot kisses. The water splashes as I grapple for her, twining my legs around her hips and my hands around her neck. She holds us against the edge, the press of her body warming my chilled skin.

"You feel so good." I mumble against her lips, raking my nails through her wet hair. My motions fall still and I kiss her softly, full of promises. I feel her respond against me, her mouth opening to me, and I claim her. As strange as it is, I think her saliva tastes good and I explore her mouth for the sole purpose of tasting more.

Quinn pulls away after a moment and her eyes, darkened by desire, reflect the light below us. She just stares at me, and I smile in the pleasant roll of her eyes over me. It's comfortable and pulls at the need I have; the need to feel her and be sexy for her, to make her want me desperately. It makes my body hum as her gaze drifts lower between us. I can almost feel her thoughts ghosting over my hard nipples, stark against the translucence of my shirt. "I want you."

Quinn's voice is barely above a whisper. I shiver at the tone, the passionate need that drips from every letter in the short sentence. Her words work up a frenzy inside me. "I'm right here, baby." I move toward her. Encaged in our position, I press my head between her arms and her neck, teasing against her ear. "And I want you to make me come." A moan tears from her mouth and my body responds clenching tightly, wishing I could feel her inside me.

I'm already primed and I pull her squarely against the heat between my legs. It rocks her from her trance and Quinn presses tighter, grinding her hips into me with intent. I stifle a moan into the space between us, but all my senses focus on her hip bone as it hits the seam of my pants and shoots throbbing pulses into me. I try to arch against her body, but the wall stops me, pinning me between the crush of her motions and the cold tile. The contrast creates a tempest in the middle of my abdomen and I struggle to feel more of her.

I tangle her lips with mine instead, forcing my tongue inside her mouth. The engine within me, overfires and revs, shooting sparks through my arms and hands. I need to feel her so badly and this little tease is driving me crazy. "Touch me." I gasp breaking the kiss and pulling back. Her thigh moves, thumping a bolt up between my legs and reminding me how bad I want her inside me. "Quinn, oh fuck." She's grinding into me again, making me insatiably aroused.

She has a cool dominating expression, tinged with a little surprise as the curse drops from my mouth. "What? This isn't touching you?" She does it again, kissing my neck and licking the drops with a skilled tongue. This time I call out my enjoyment, echoing my cry around the pool, like I'm skipping stones across the surface. I shudder broken breaths against the uncoiling of heat from her lips that race down to meet with the sparks her hips are creating.

"With your hands." I groan.

"My hands are kinda busy." She indicates her grip on the edge and I growl a little in frustration at the hands above my head. "Unless you wanna drown… which obviously you do." Her lips find mine, tasting like the pool water. She pants out small breaths between the electric slides of her mouth on mine.

I fix her with a sultry smile thinking about how madly I want her and I would give anything to drown in her. "Let's go inside." I wipe the water droplets off her face and pin her with a final kiss before slipping toward the shallow end. She follows in my wake and I look back as I hit the shallower water, gaining my footing. She has a predatory look to her as she moves forward in slow motion, stepping higher in the water level. Her shirt clings to her, torturously to my eyes, and I can't believe this goddess is mine. She looks like Venus rising from the ocean. The image winds me before we seal our lips together again. I backpedal as she wraps me up and surges forward, knocking me off balance. The cold water embraces me and I keep our mouths together as it washes over skin that had warmed, prickling me with icy needles.

I trust her implicitly as I meld to her, wrapping in her meager warmth and let her walk us toward the stairs. Her hands press hard on my hips, as she holds me against her in the water, igniting my fire higher. She's squeezing my ass and I can feel her nails on the exposed skin above my pants. "Oh yes." I whisper against her lips as she lifts me a little, depositing me on the stairs in a wave of water.

"Let's not go inside yet," she teases against my neck as she pulls in for another kiss. My hands map out the curves of her shoulder blades and I try to climb into her mouth, try to express how much I want her. She hovers over me kneeing my legs apart. I pull her tighter, her heat all but gone as our cold bodies meet. Her motions quicken, under my mouth's message, her hands now free to roam. I cling to her and hold her firmly against me as she moans in my mouth.

Her hands make a line for the waist of my jeans and she breaks the kiss, panting. "God, I need you. Fucking wet clothes." She grins at me and tugs on the clasps of my pants. I lean back against the lip of the pool, giving her room as she fights against the wet material. It chaffs as she pulls on my jeans and they come down a fraction. She claws at them and I gasp as her nails rake roughly on my hips, pulling down my panties as well.

She looks horrified as she rubs against the flesh. "Sorry."

I'm not, and I moan my approval as the tingle seems to reach between my legs and make me wetter. I feel a little crazy at the mind blowing energy that grips me. I help her with the jeans, working them down, practically ripping them off.

She's on me after that, her warm mouth kissing along my side, creating little hurricanes as the temperature contrasts against my freezing skin. Quinn's lithe body splays my legs apart, pressing coldly against my center, making me almost painfully aware of every throb. I dip my head back as she presses upward on my sopping shirt, moving it out of the way of her mouth's path. "Mmmm… that feels so good, Quinn."

"You feel good." I quiver under the touches, drawing my legs around her hips as she works higher, pressing the thin silk of my bra out of the way, her mouth on my nipple immediately after. The jolt shoots through me, her mouth feverishly hot. I fall back further, rolling my eyes closed under the motions.

And I just soak in the feel of her, the touch of her mouth, her hands caressing in trails on my legs, the almost gentle nip of her teeth. I can't get enough and I grunt my displeasure as she removes her mouth, switching breasts far too slowly in my opinion. Her hips grind into me again and I press back, sighing heavily. I realize the sensuality, the dominance but mostly the comfort I feel with her. I open my eyes to trace her face as it presses to my breast. I'm so happy she's mine. "What did I do to deserve you?" I wonder softly, curling my hand in her hair as she works over me. I follow the soft roll of her pink tongue over the dark skin of my nipple and hiss out a breath at her beautiful mouth.

Her motions slow as she kisses higher, teeth and tongue running over my clavicle. She stretches over me to place kisses on the bounding pulse I can feel dizzying me. "You're just you, babe." Quinn fixes her hands on the insides of my legs, dipping her fingers close to where I need her. I'm vibrating, the muscles in my calves bunching with every pass. Her open mouth kisses burn my skin as her fingers angle closer.

"Yes, please, yes." I'm goading her, begging her. I feel the cold from her hands as it hovers near the heat between my legs. She edges in closer with her fingers, caressing just outside my wetness, lightly tracing in an idle pattern.

"Moan for me." She commands in my ear.

Primal fire lights me and if I ever had a reservation about anything, its out the window fast enough to make my head spin. I'm grabbing at her, moaning into her mouth, straining to touch as much of her as I can. I'm aware that we are outside, but I could care less- if the neighbors look, then it's their own damn fault.

She's teasing me like a puppet on string. I'm moving under her hands, her feathery touches forcing my body to arch into her for more contact. It is torturous and sublime. Quinn's moves make waves of need crash through me. Everything manifests in torn animalistic cries that I don't even register as they echo around the pool.

And then she glides through the wetness between my folds, making my hips buck against her with intent. It pops light behind my clamped eyes and I lave my tongue against hers, drawing her toward me. "Yes." I punctuate between my mouth's motions. "Yes, fucking God please, yes." It makes no sense, the words that are tumbling between her kisses.

She touches me firmer, so damn close to everything that I almost scream into her mouth as her tongue works past my lips and her fingers do it again. "Yeah?" She teases, pressing against my opening.

I catch her eyes, and twine my hands in her hair. "Yes." She circles once and then enters me, making my whole body light up like a flare. I pull her into me crushing my lips to hers, quivering as she anchors her hand, those long fingers hitting everything perfectly. She pulls out and moans as she enters again with three fingers, filling me. I don't know how she just knows what to do, and I really don't care as she begins stroking, building a blaze inside me.

"You feel so good." She whispers shakily again, soft cries resonating from her lips in time with her motions. I cling to her lightly, my arms heavy with desire while her motions feel like they're pulling me inside out. I'm at the gentle mercy of her and I love it.

Quinn peppers kisses along my neck and jaw, grazing my earlobe before filling my reality with her warm dripping words. "You're so wet, and warm. You know that?" I nod weakly as she speeds up, building pressure as I climb higher. My tolerance threshold peaks and I shiver at the brink.

"Keep going." I urge her. "Don't stop, please." I kiss every part of her that I can reach. Dropping my jaw, I grab hold of the infinitely vast urge inside me and tighten on her fingers. Quinn slams her palm into my clit and I scream her name as I tense one final time.

Involuntarily I pull her closer and the shift of her body splashes ice water up between us, dousing my exposed center and washing away my orgasm into the liquid around us. The cold spikes a sharp twinge of pain up my body. "Shit, fucking freezing!" I rocket off the step, breaking us apart, and it almost hurts too much to register anything else.

"Well, that was crappy timing." Quinn looks displeased as she chews her lips but it's gone a moment later as she smiles up at me good-naturedly. "How close were you?"

"You don't want to know." I laugh, sliding to my feet a little ungainly.

She shifts around making arcing circles with her arms in the water. "Can we go inside and continue?" She sounds afraid that I'll say no.

I smile and roll my eyes as I ascend the steps backward. "Already ahead of you; you coming baby?"

"I was getting close to coming, yeah." She jokes, splashing behind me. I strip off my shirt and bra as I hit the patio, dropping them on the small table beside my makeshift ashtray and open the glass door easily. "Rachel wait."

She pries herself free of her soaked clothing, baring herself to my hungry eyes. She is so beautiful, with the lean cut of her form and the impossible depth of her smile and eyes. I must look smug because my head pounds the steady mantra that she is mine. She drops each article of clothing on the bricks. "You liking this?" She winks at me.

"No, I hate it with a passion." My eyes follow the bounce of her breasts as she slides up beside me. There is a light twinge of red blush rising on her shoulders and I trace it lightly with my fingers.

"Good." She pecks a kiss and slides in before me. "Just stand right here, I'll get a towel. I don't want you to slip baby."

I snicker. "You must think I'm a total clutz." I close the glass door with a snap sealing us inside as I give her a droll look. "I am a dancer you know."

"Those legs tell me every time." She agrees tickling my ear with a kiss before she is off.

I don't think I have ever seen anything cuter than five and a half feet of blonde nakedness bounding through the family room toward the back bathroom. I follow her racing form in the semi-light with my eyes until she disappears. It only takes a moment for her to return with towels.

I breathe deep the warm cotton and use it to chaff my skin dry, eliciting chills to rake me. "Thirsty?" Quinn enunciates and I nod as I wrap the towel around me. The cotton burs against my sensitive skin and I find myself almost grumbling on the fact that my orgasm was literally… right…. there. And now a drink is interrupting my slowly receding passion. A sigh escapes my chest.

I stare over the low counter as the light from the refrigerator draws over Quinn, washing her in the dark kitchen. I can't wait until I know this place well enough to maneuver in the dark. I smile silently to myself, wondering where that thought came from. It probably has everything to do with my desire to spend every moment near Quinn. She approaches me with a Gatorade in her hand, breaking the seal as she offers me the first gulp. "Rachel?"

I take it, grateful for the rinsing sweetness, and pass it back to her. She swallows and closes the bottle. "You know," Quinn chews over her words as I watch her. "I have been thinking a lot about our conversations over the internet." She leans over the counter. "Things we talked about and the candor that we talked about them in."

I'm intrigued as I notice an even starker coloring of red on her skin. "Which parts?" My eyes drop to the line her cleavage is forming as she rests on the counter.

"The sexy parts, like when you told me, you know…" she pauses, laughing a little. Her teeth find her lip and pinch it with such adorable tenderness, I melt. It is such a contrast from the fireball outside I almost can't believe it's the same person.

"When I told you what?" I notice the dark blush cruising up her neck and it makes me blush too for no other reason than I can't imagine what it was I said that makes her so embarrassed.

"About the strap on." She rolls her eyes up at me, and I blush for real, uncomfortably warm suddenly in my towel. Her words rebound around inside my mind and I visibly shiver.

"Oh?" I feel something churn inside me as she measures me, thinking, contemplating. I realize she isn't trying to come up with words; she's trying to decide if she wants it. My legs vibrate as the muscles start to liquefy under the possibility that we might do that tonight.

"Well, I trust you." She fiddles with the Gatorade bottle swirling her fingers around it suggestively, "I meant it when I said it, and I want you to have that. Have that part of me because maybe it will show you how much I trust you."

The way she says it makes me feel uncomfortable. Almost like she feels she has to in order to prove something. I frown a little. "I already know that." I feel myself at a loss as I try to touch on the feelings I have. "I don't need you to put yourself in that compromising a position for me to prove your trust." And I want to beat myself in the face for saying that because I'm torn between wanting it and needing it. There is not a single part of me that doesn't.

She circles the counter slowly and I falter a little as she comes close, her eyes steady and hands reaching out. Quinn pulls on my towel a little, freeing the flip in front and bringing it down around me. I shiver a little as her eyes roam over me. "I want to feel that," she glances up, "You." She draws closer, pressing a kiss to my shoulder that makes me forget my concerns. "I want to know what it feels like to have you pumping in and out of me."

The heat of her breath makes goosebumps paint the right side of my body as it spirals down around my shoulder. She comes closer, her own towel rubbing alluringly against my skin. I mew a sound as she kisses my neck, dragging at some primal need I can hardly contain. "I need to compromise myself a little bit." Again she's at it with her lips, making my eyes blur. "I want you to do what you have thought about so that we can share that."

As if her words aren't enough, her tongue traces a slow line up my neck, making my body quiver. "Oh Jesus…" I whisper as I clamp my hands down on her arms to hold myself steady. I can't even think. "Do you have one?"

She laughs and I can feel the smile against my skin. "Doesn't every good lesbian?"

"I don't know... do th…" I whisper as she catches my ear and chokes the sound in my throat as I try to breathe and speak at the same time. I fight for the words. "Do they?"

She shrugs. "I happen to, but you probably don't want to hear about who I bought it for and how I never used it with them."

"You're right, I don't," I agree, turning to silence her lips with my own. And as she returns the kiss I realize that we both need this. It's a proverbial throwing down of a gauntlet. A rite of passage. I couldn't want anything more.

So when her hands wrap around me, I tug at her towel, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. The flutter of the cotton against the tile might as well be an actual gauntlet because Quinn begins a slow pull, coaxing me toward the bedroom. Our bedroom, I acknowledge boldly, and it fills me with excitement.

By the time we are halfway down the hall, I'm pushing her back slow, careful steps in the dark. I love her. I want to make her mine in every way. As my excitement builds I realize she's offering me something very powerful. Something she hasn't ever done. A first for her. I feel the thrumming of my heart as I make the connection and it softens the hard edge of desire I feel spike me.

"I can't wait to feel you. I need you, want you, oh my God Quinn you destroy me, you're so beautiful." I find myself saying as I weave my mouth over her skin, kissing, nipping and sucking at her throat and jaw. I find her lips in the mix, and lick them, prying her mouth open expertly. Her hand presses the bedroom door open and we fall through it in a scramble of heat and skin.

"Oh Rachel." And it becomes my single goal to make her scream my name. Drive her to a place I could never find or touch. "Baby, you are just..." She wrenches a moan out of her throat as I bite her neck. I don't know where these dominating urges are coming from, to mark her, to own her. It is like something that shifted in the shadows is unchained.

"I am." I press toward the edge of the bed, purring against her ear and eyeing the satisfying chills that coat her body. "You like that?" I tease nipping on her earlobe and then grazing my teeth down her neck.

"Yes…" She pants hard, struggling for breath. "It's in the bottom drawer."

I smile boldly and then fake confusion. "What is?"

She shivers under my motions as I bait her to say it. "The strap on."

"And what are we supposed to do with that?" I play, feeling like I'm invincible. My hands find her breasts and cup them, thumbs working slowly over hardened nipples.

Her pants turn to soft gasps and the sound makes me drip with want. "Get it and I'll show you."

I laugh. "You get it and I'll show **you** first." I challenge playfully.

Her hands find my back and she kisses me deeply, her tongue darting into my mouth. She pulls back and catches my lower lip in her teeth, biting softly. The shockwave radiates straight to my clit. "Okay, I'll get it." I correct.

My hands are in the drawer and I don't remember anything about getting there. I'm just there, staring at her cheerleading bag from high school. I laugh. "Is this where you always carried your sex toys?"

"Ha." She fakes amusement. "Very funny."

I pull open the zipper and though the bag holds several things I would love to inspect further, I find the harness almost immediately, and pull it free. The pliant material is firm yet soft under my fingers and reality sets in, freezing my humor. I stand as the lights dim, leaving me a little breathless and a lot nervous as Quinn looks at me over her shoulder. Beside her, candles flicker a little and the romantic motion makes my stomach flutter.

"Hi." Is all I really have the power to say as I'm caught between the grown up idea of what we are doing and feeling like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Hey, sweetheart."

I swallow as I trace the smooth lines of her back as it shifts and she turns toward me, lightly sitting on the bed. "Come here." She curls a finger, beckoning me. I just stare at her, a blonde panther as she slides across the width of the bed toward me. I can't get enough air and I feel like I'm drowning. I know no one else could ever do this to me, break me open and unhinge me without stealing every little bit of me left. And yet, Quinn does it with a look and a smile as her hand takes mine, but it fills me instead of robbing me of everything.

I join her, kneeling on the bed. "So…"

"No time to get bashful." She chides, taking the harness from me. I feel myself blushing furiously. It's silly really, because it isn't the first time we have had sex, but I sigh as she fiddles with the straps. This is something I have wanted for a while and I feel the pressure to make it as good as my fantasies.

She beckons me closer, practically in her lap and I stare down at her as I feel her hands thread around me. She nudges my legs apart and I anchor on her shoulders. The silence makes me nervous, so I fill it. "You know, it isn't that I'm bashful. I just want it to be good." I focus on the swirling painting hanging on the wall. "I need…" my words are cut off as she slips the harness up between my legs and something firm hits my clit. "Oh, umm… ahhh… wow." I look down between us.

"Yeah." She smiles up at me as her hands hold everything in place. "I have a feeling you are gonna like this."

I nod emphatically as she returns to the motions. "So, you're not embarrassed, you're worried about performance?"

I shrug because it almost seems silly. "Yeah, that is one way to put it I guess." I watch her thread tight the clasp on my hip and then pull the synch tight with her teeth. I breathe heavier at the sight as she does the same to the other side..

"You do know that you know more about this than I do, right?" She laughs. "Just draw on what you know, and I'll let you know if it works."

It seems natural and simple, so I let go of my doubt. "Are you ready?" My voice is darker than I have ever heard it. I clear my throat but I can't lose the smokiness in it. "I mean… I don't know what I mean." I laugh. "That wasn't very sexy."

"It's okay. No, I think I need something first." I feel her tug me forward by the strap on and it's surreal as she manipulates me into her lap with it, pulling forcefully. It is a tribute to her ability to string together straps and ties.

"You know, if that was real, you wouldn't be getting laid." I indicate the smooth shaft her hand is wrapped around.

"You know, if it were real you wouldn't be either." I laugh as she pulls me down for a kiss. The woman has a point. She works her lips toward my ear as my hands caress over her. "I want your mouth on me."

I pull back, looking far too happy for my own good. I can't swallow the stupid grin that her words make me feel. "Oh really?"

"Yeah?"

"Like where, your elbow?"

"You just might not get laid for the hell of it." She taunts gently letting go of the toy and kissing me soundly. I take that as my cue to descend. I bow away from her as she lays back. I drag my tongue down between her breasts, grazing my lips over the rosy nipples. They harden almost instantly and I nudge them with my lips, feeling her chest shudder. I graze them with my hot breath as I exhale and trace down further.

"I'm sorry baby. I promise to make it up to you." I like playing with her. She laughs lightly as I inspect her navel with my lips. I feel her tug at something, and the flash of a controller in her hand and a cord connecting it to me stops my motions. I arch my eyebrow at it and then at her. "What's that?" But I forget my question as I smell that familiar scent of her. I give her a look and she smiles as I skip down to rest between her thighs.

Quinn sighs as I wedge her thighs wider, opening her to me. My eyes graze over her and I move in, swirling my breath between her legs. I visibly watch all the muscles clench. "Wow." I whisper and trace my finger between her folds, over her clit and down to circle her opening. She clenches again, this time a soft cry escapes her. I draw my index finger through the slide of wetness before me, catching it on my fingers. From this close I watch the swirl of light against the lubrication coating my fingertip. I rub it between the pads of my fingers, feeling the silkiness. I sigh.

"What is it?" She sounds alarmed. I feel her body coil with tension.

"Nothing, just enjoying the view." I whisper peeking my head up to catch her gaze and smile. I realize I'm taking her comfort for granted, and it's the last thing I want to do. "I'm sorry." I kiss the inside of her thigh. I return my eyes to hers and hold her with a smile as I dip my finger back. After a moment of circling, her hazel orbs drift closed. "Mmm" I moan a little as I dip my finger into her and then thrust inside her quickly and then pull free.

"Oh yes! No, no, no, come back."

I trace my finger around her opening. "What do you want, baby?" I feel the pull of her muscles as she clenches for me.

She groans in frustration. "I want you, it, anything… inside me." She lifts her head and pins me. "Seriously, before I go fucking crazy."

I smile, ducking a little closer. "How about I start here?"

I moan as I roll my mouth up the length of her wetness, feeling it coat my tongue. She tastes sweet and tangy and I slip my head to the side, changing the angle as I do it again. "Oh Rachel." I glance at her face as she arches out of view. I can't stop my smile and I breathe deep her scent and circle my tongue around her clit. "Oh, oh God baby." I kiss it, teasing her. She staggers her breath above me.

I like it. I like the way she tastes, how wet she gets. I love the sounds she makes because it's me doing it to her. My mouth, my teeth, my lips. In effect I kiss again, smacking my lips. "Rachel, Jesus, I love your mouth."

"Is that good?" I ask, already knowing the answer as I suck on the nerve bundle, popping it between my lips.

She doesn't form words, just a moan that resonates so loudly I almost feel embarrassed. I trace my hands down her thighs and up the side of her hips. I hum my appreciation of her muscles pulled tight, solid under my fingertips. She bucks against my lips as the sound vibrates her.

"Should I keep going or should I move up there?"

Suddenly, the harness vibrates, the small snub point buried in the harness thrumming against my clit so hard I almost shoot out of the bed. "Holy shit." I grapple for it with my hand, putting distance between its vibrations and my body.

Quinn doesn't move, she just peeks an eye open at me, a bubble of laughter on her lips. "You should make a decision."

"This isn't nice." I focus hard on the bed sheets as the vibrations pound through my hand into me, driving me to quiver for her. Slowly it recedes and I focus on her. "Interesting trick."

"I spare no expense with my magic." She arches an eyebrow at me and glances down between her legs. "I believe you were making a decision." She grins as I drop my jaw in surprise.

"You're lucky you're hot, otherwise I would take your toys and go home." I slide back between her legs and lean on her thigh. My hand glides up the expanse of her abdomen.

"You are home." She whispers just loud enough for me to hear it, but have to stop to process it. I smile softly.

"I want to come up." I say absently, more to myself than her, and my eyes drift to catch hers. "I think I'm ready."

"I am too." Quinn gives me a soulful look. "Come kiss me."

I crawl up her body, measuring her in the candlelight, taking my time to drag my breasts across her. She quivers at the contact and I smile a little. As I near her, there is a look in her face that I can't place. "What is it?"

Her smile falters a little. "I'm nervous I won't be as sexy as your fantasies."

I laugh making her roll her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but I hush whatever words she wants to say with a searing kiss. "I love you."

It trickles out of my mouth ringing true and breaking a dam in my chest. I think she sees it, because it is impossible to contain the sliding home of something inside my heart. I feel more like myself than I have ever felt. "I love you Rachel."

I settle down atop her, parting her thighs with my hips. Her skin is so warm and flushed, I caress along her sides, elbowing the bed with my right arm. I work my left across her right breast thumbing her nipple as I kiss her, my tongue languidly strokes hers.

I experimentally rock my hips against hers, very aware of the toy pressing against the length of her. Her beautiful lips conjure a sigh against my mouth as her hips press into me. I shudder. "Do you like this?"

Her hands come up and hold me to her, "Yes, but I want to feel you inside me."

Her nipples harden against my chest as I slide back a little. It is so new, heady and amazing; I find I'm imprinting on everything. Her feel, her sounds, her image, everything is emblazoned in my memory permanently. I aim the strap on, watching her face as she melts into a sensual smile. "Right there." She confirms as her hips lift a little.

I shift the length of my body up over her, moaning involuntarily at the contact. From out of nowhere she strokes the dial on the controller and starts a slow gentle vibration through me. I bite my lip until it hurts. "That isn't going to give me much time."

"I'm not going to take much time." She pulls me closer, caving her body to get me eye to eye with her. "Just go slow." She asks quietly. Her legs curve around my hips and I place feathery kisses on her lips.

"I will I promise."

She pulls me tighter and I stretch my legs, flexing them, pressing forward. I feel the tension, holding the toy at bay and Quinn closes her eyes, arching back into the bed. The pressure sends thick warbling vibrations through me, threatening to make me orgasm as I watch her face. "I, oh god, oh god Quinn." I don't know if I can hold on. Then all at once the resistance gives way.

She whimpers and hisses through her teeth arching her chest into me. I moan out Quinn's name and encircle her with a hand under her back; struggling to be tight enough and close enough to her. I feel the toy and by extension myself sink into her, the pull of her legs making the motion more her than me.

Her mouth falls open in a long guttural moan that signals to stop and I do. I move my hips in a small circle, teasing the tight wetness around the strap on. Quinn moans throatily and squirms under me, her thighs spasming around my hips. "Does it hurt?" I ask easing back a little and then pressing forward again.

"No." She bites her lips and then wrenches a cry from her lips as I move again, her head tossing to the side. "Oh Rachel, my God, go please, go."

I kiss her neck following her hurried commands, her hands twisting tightly in my hair. I begin a slow sensual grinding motion inside her, one that would make me scream if anyone that had ever done it. She pulls me up to her lips and laves her tongue against mine and I meet her in a slurry of panted breaths.

It is exhilarating, knowing that I'm here in this moment with her. Having waited so long for this, I can barely hold out as my abdomen tightens. I feel the pull of my climax circle me again and I drop my head to her neck, listening as soft cries resonate in her throat. She holds me to her, soft hands cradling my head and chest as I move, dipping a little faster each time. "Yes." She tightens her grip as I lift up, pressing my forehead to hers.

I grind down into her, feeling her wetness on my thighs, crashing my lips down onto hers to swallow her moan. I pull back, her muscles grabbing for the vanishing thickness. I press in again, feeling less resistance. I pick up the pace, her eyes open and dazed and her hands sputtering to hold onto me weakly. Her voice warbles, "Yes, Rachel… yes… don't… stop…. Please… baby…." Broken hurried words between thrusts drill into me.

She keens up into me, meeting my motions and I save her from her illiteracy with open mouth kisses, licking the roof of her mouth as she arches further and further back. "Are you close?" I edge as I start to lose focus, both our motions turning sloppy and uncontrolled – desperate.

"Yes," She lets go of me, cementing her hands around the base of the headboard. She rattles it, the wood creaking as her legs pull me into her.

I'm right at the edge for the second time tonight and this time, I'm not able to stop it. I lean over her and steal her cries from the source, as I echo everything back at her. "I'm gonna come Quinn." I cry out, dropping down and fisting my hand in her drying hair.

She moulds herself around me and plasters her mouth to mine. Her eyes focus with determination. "Come for me." Her voice is devoid of haze and the look she gives me, pins me with, does it.

I shatter into long full body vibrations that make everything ache and burn. I can't move, or think, and above me I hear Quinn tumble after me, her whole body tight. I grope for the controller beside us blindly, and find it right before I crawl out of my skin to escape the stimulation. I finally am able to come to a rest, breathless and sputtering, my arms burning and aching.

I jerk a little, bobbling in the bed as I go to move. When Quinn mews softly I remember we are still intimately attached. "I'm sorry baby." I whisper, caressing her shoulders and hip. I pull out slowly and once I'm free I'm scrambling to get myself free of the strap on so that I can fit all my skin against her.

She doesn't move, and I watch her as I loosen it and am able to slip it down my hips. "Quinn…" I slide against her, pulling her close to me.

After a moment she opens her light eyes, tracing my face. "That was amazing."

"Yes it was."

She smiles a little, burrowing her face into my neck. "How do you feel?"

I mull over it, not really sure how I feel. The whisper of the emotion pops into my mind as I feel her kiss touch my throat. "Complete."

I hear a satisfied laugh drift up to me as she pulls me closer. "Me too."


	21. Chapter 21

A/N:So I've decided to give you the rest of the story which is this chapter and the Epilogue. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 21

It surprises me how much three days can do. How quickly Quinn can melt down the composite ore in my heart and erect steel rails I can move along. She dexterously creates a guide path and protective support system for the past me and future me to come together in the present.

I remember who I was, and grabbing at those moments doesn't seem half as difficult as it once did. I don't feel like that person is me walking in the shoes of a stranger. That other me feels more like dress shoes, uncomfortable at first, but slowly becoming part of my everyday attire; however, she is me through and through. I smile knowing the lines are blurring more and more.

I can tell because of how my heart seems to beat harder. How my hands that always felt so cold and chaffed are warm and soft. Quinn makes me feel alive again, corporeal finally, instead of a shadow of who I was. I'm looking at the world through eyes I haven't used in a long time and sometimes I swear that all I see is her.

The bed is warm, and the air is cool. The idle hum of the fan fills the silence as it oscillates back and forth over us. It twirls the strands of her hair and I watch them come to a rest as the air moves away, pouring over me in turn. Her eyes glow preternaturally in the night light from the bathroom and I stare at them while they bounce over mine.

It feels so good to be here with her, almost as if my prayers have been answered.

I think they have been and I take her hand, running my fingers over the smoothness between her fingers. I thread our hands together and then back it away again, reveling in the texture of her skin. "What are you thinking about?" Quinn whispers her eyelashes blocking the color of her eyes as they drift to our intertwined fingers.

"I'm thinking that you're my answered prayer."

She smiles gently, stifling a sarcastic laugh. "Is that all?" She catches her lip between her teeth as she squeezes my hand, and somehow touches my heart with the motion. I slide closer, feeling her skin against mine. She releases my hand, clasping me close, and holding me there.

I press my lips to hers, pulling the soft skin as we lock together. "You are even more than that, Quinn." I flick my eyes up at hers meaningfully as I linger close to her mouth. I can see the half smile and I kiss the crease of the upturned corner, getting a full smile on the second pass.

"You're going to give me a bigger head than I already have, you know?" Her hand traces idly over my back, lulling me into a peaceful wrapping of love. "I'm supposed to be working on you sweetheart."

"I can still return the favor." I worm my hands up between us, sliding gently over the soft skin of her chest, and resting my right against her slowly beating heart. I sigh as I feel it under my fingertips.

"You do it too well." She kisses my forehead and smiles against the skin. I know she closes her eyes, and it makes my heart swell, as I feel her relax further, her breathing slow and warm against my hair, the motion of her chest is even against me. "Rach?"

I kiss her neck in response to the infrequent abbreviation of my name. "Yes, honey."

Her muscles pull tight into a smile at the even less frequent epithet. "Are you worried about tomorrow?" Her concern is evident in the tone and the way her arms move to encapsulate me in a hug. I focus on her throat and trace the arch of it first with my eyes and then my fingertips. I offer a lazy smile as she pulls back to regard me.

"No." I lick my lips absently. "They won't know what hit them."

"Well, yeah I know that, but are you going to be okay? The agents will be there early and they know you might be in there. I gave them your name." Her hand idly traces up my neck, stitching shivers through my shoulders. "You just grab your things and get out of there, never mind getting the files."

"I have to see this through, you know that." I give her a ghost of a smile as she snorts a laugh. "I do."

"I know. I just feel badly because I should be there going out in a blaze of glory with you."

"As nice as that would be, I think having you there would just distract me." I find her eyes in the dark and she nods in understanding. I know it hurts her a little, and I rub my nose against hers to take any harshness out of the words.

She wags an eyebrow at me, "You're pretty pissed off, aren't you?"

"I'm getting that part of me back, yeah." I feel the fire inside me and it spills out into my words.

Quinn's kiss signals that she heard it too, and I can tell it makes her happy. I'm walking in those dress shoes again, wearing them in. "I love it when you get angry. Red is such a good color on you." She traces through my hair, sending more tingles down my back. "When are you gonna start storming out of rooms again?"

I laugh. "Never. Unless you give me good reason to..."

She rakes a grin. "It's a shame cause you know- I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave."

I scoff at her playfully. "Don't ever say that to me again, really you should feel ashamed."

She laughs throatily at my revelation. "Why? Cause you have a great ass?"

"No, because that's most likely the cheesiest," I kiss her soundly, "silliest," another, "lamest thing I have ever heard you say." I pepper her with kisses to show I really don't mind.

"Yeah well, from where I'm laying, it seems to have worked." She pulls my mouth toward hers; levying a long deep kiss I'm more than willing to drown in. Her words make me smile, but her tongue will have none of it, as she pulls me tighter and explores.

I graze my lips over hers as we part. "Can't you tell this is pity?" I press in again unable to get enough.

"I like it when you pity me."

"You would, you hornball." Her eyes flash and I know I'm in trouble as she goes in to exploit my weaknesses. She feathers her fingers over my side tickling me and I laugh, fighting her off playfully.

"What'd you say to me? Take it back." She chides as her fingers firm against me and I hysterically giggle trying to escape her attack.

"No!" I struggle between gasps for air. Finally, catching her wrists I'm able to gather my breath. "God you are so mean!" I stagger gulps of air and laugh again at her satisfied grin. I make motion to release her hands and they go in to attack again, and I halt her. "No… don't, bad girlfriend." I give her a halfhearted warning with a rise of my eyebrow, tightening my grip.

"Okay, I'm done." I measure her. "I swear." Quinn sighs as I release her, enveloping me in the warmth of her arms.

"See, isn't this so much better?" I mumble as I snuggle into her, sliding my thigh between hers, my hand resting over her side.

"Mmm, yes very nice." Quinn whispers lightly, taking up her sleeping position, one arm threading under our pillows, the other over my hip.

I absently trace her lower back with my fingertips as she maps a similar pattern over my hip. I sigh and she reciprocates a mirrored purge of excitement. Her lips find my forehead and I know she's falling asleep, that motion seeming to be the final one every night. The familiarity warms me and I wait for the same words to come that have lulled me every night thus far. "I love you, sweetheart."

I smile reveling in the warmth it spreads through me, and in response to her ritual I peck a kiss to her throat creating a new one of my own, "and I love you."

As I have done every night, I soak in the feel of her. Listening as her breathing evens out and with a final almost habitual adjustment of her legs, she begins to fade. And just as routine, I smile in the darkness that no longer taunts me or haunts me, as I nuzzle closer. Her fingers slow and pause their motion, only to begin again as she fluctuates in and out.

I'm right there with her, as I always will be, as the slow inter-dispersed twine of her fingers over my skin sends me to sleep.

I hold onto the memory of that peace as I white knuckle my steering wheel. It feels strange driving again, and even more disorienting when I pull into the parking lot only to have my heart pick up and threaten to pound out of my chest. This place used to be my solace and my comfort. It used to be the only place I felt like myself in.

Things are changing, I recognize, as I slide into a parking spot and fix my eyes on the building before me. The daunting panic that grips me from being here is as far away from the real me as I have been in the past days. I flip open the vanity mirror and measure myself with a careful eye. I remind myself that confidence is my weapon and Quinn my shield. I grab my purse and go before the warmth of that thought leaves me.

I walk up to the doors of Trinity International for what will most likely be the last time. It feels surreal and I hold my breath as I pull out my employee badge. I don't know what they know, and my palms sweat as I swipe the key card reader. It would be an awful way to find out that six years of work is over, to have my badge be deactivated and not permit me access. I stare at the little red light on the key coder and wait. After a breathless moment it decides to play nice and turns green, allowing me to pull the door open. At least that one part is down.

The empty lobby allows me a moment to tick straight my skirt and jacket, and I check my reflection in the plate glass mirror across from me. I don't look like a different person, but I feel like one. I fluff my hair, letting it fall around my neck in a sharp layer. I realize my exterior was fashioned to be much more intimidating then it had ever been simply because my heart had become so fragile. It was a ward that kept people far enough away that perhaps they wouldn't hurt me.

A smile spreads my face because I can finally be myself again. I can grow my hair out into the long strands that Quinn loves, and slip free of the business suits, erase the makeup used to sharpen my features. I can stop pushing people away and use Quinn as my center point to expand back into who I was. My eyes shift, losing a little of the lightness that penetrated them, as I stare into my reflection.

First things first, I chide myself regaining the hard edges I'll need. I focus on the task ahead of me and ascend the stairs.

I straighten my shoulders as I go, summoning from the very depths of my being all the hellfire and anger I have. I know it will take a lot; coming this far has already taken a lot. I focus on Richard and the fury I feel, the lies between me and my superiors, the unbridled words that won't or can't come out of my mouth. I steel myself, using my bitterness to keep my feet moving.

The operations floor is dim. I measure the room of row cubicles, grey and white against the tan carpet. It's stark, and hard – I had never realized that before. Not that it was surprising; I had missed a lot in the past five years. My view is crowded by a cleaning crew and it breaks my trance.

I hit the top step and John rolls by the mouth of the stairs. He stops short, staring at me like he has seen a ghost. The look tells me more about what I'm walking into than any written announcement delivered by certified mail. They know. Everyone knows. "Hey Rachel, how was your weekend?" He asks breaking into stride as he walks past, twirling an empty Styrofoam cup on his way to the break room.

"Good." I answer curtly as we both keep walking in opposite directions.

"Good too, thanks." He calls over his shoulder even though I didn't ask, the conversation a telling story about the automatic nature of our relationship. I make my way toward the back conference room, thinking about the exchange. Just a few days before I felt a conversation like that held substance or importance. It used to be what filled my day. Now that my days are filled with emotion and interconnectedness, the realization of how vast a difference my awareness has taken on, makes me smile. It turns rueful, as I wonder how many things still will change around me and relationships will be realized as hollow.

I weave between the cubicles to get to the room at the end of the rows. My steps involuntarily slow as I near the door. Ghosts from walking the same path days before echo around me and lead me down beside the IT department, to the offset conference room where my whole life changed. The lights are dark on this side of the building and I'm grateful for it. It seems to be hiding my trespass. Not my trespass in loving Quinn, but my almost eager sell out of my loyalties as they shifted very swiftly from the company to her.

Always and only her. Forever.

I find it funny that I think that here, as I stand in a dark doorway, in this place. Of all the places to have that revelation, I don't understand why it has to be here. Why not in her arms, against her lips, looking in her eyes; all the cliché moments that really do happen for people. No, I have to realize I want to keep her forever as I stare into the void, at a company I'm turning the government loose on, on a day where I'm as far away from her as I ever want to be again. What a story to tell my children someday…

I slide into the conference room and the motion sensors pick up, illuminating the room. Nothing, it's empty. And of course it is! I run my hand through my hair as I catalogue my thoughts. I had Friday off, so of course someone came in here and found them. And that means, at the very least, the red flag has been raised.

I look around feeling a weave of panic settle in my stomach and despite the precursor of confidence I have been exuding, I wish Quinn were here. I fist my hands and release the breath I didn't realize I had been holding.

My eyes fall to the table top, where a white sheet of paper sits face down. I stare at it as every nerve in my body stands up at attention. I don't know if I should touch it, but I do, because my curiosity trumps my common sense. I flip it and my eyes scan the page. It's the requisition form, the copy. I recoil my hand as I hear a shuffling behind me.

I turn to the sound and Marci bares a row of teeth at me as she stalks through the door. Not quite a snarl and not quite a smile. It is lost somewhere between the two, but backed with animosity. Her motions can only be described as violent feeling in the hard edged movements that almost make me take a step back. Regardless of the fact I can't read her, I won't be caught unaware. "Can I help you Marci?" I move toward the door, drawing her eyes from the table, fighting my instinctive urge to run away. There won't be any running today.

"I signed the form and the files are ready to be shipped."

I measure her quietly, wondering what she expects me to say. "Okay." I wedge shifting my purse in a subtle hint that I need to get going. She makes no move to stop me as I take one step and then another toward the door she walked through. Her eyes follow my motions as I hold her with my eyes. I'm about out the door when she stops me with her words.

"Why'd you copy the form?" Her eyes fall to the white page on the tabletop and I know she can't be fooled. I reach down and conjure the only motion I can think of as she pins me.

My hands shake and I lock them around the shoulder strap of my purse. "Because I won't be a part of this." And I smile. It is an even, perfect, remorseless smile that seems to pierce through her certainty and rattle her confidence. She loses the grinning skull on her face as it screws up into a frown.

"Well sadly," and in contrast to her words she doesn't seem sad at all, "it has come to our attention that you have been using your work computer for personal time which was outlined in the policy guide." I read the pointed irritation in her face even though she looks pleased with herself.

I pause, smiling at her. I don't allow it to falter. "I understand." I freeze her with my stare as I whisper, "I'll get my things."

"Please do that." She agrees.

And just that quickly, I have no marriage, no home, and no job. I don't mourn it though, as I pass through the rows. I focus on the fact that in an hour I'll be curled in Quinn's arms, and none of this will matter. I turn the corner and move toward the nameplate that bears a resemblance to me. Rachel Arlington. But I'm not that girl anymore.

My office door is ajar. I falter in the walk space between cubicles, my feet failing to propel me forward. I just stare. I know it shouldn't hurt me. It isn't mine anymore. My eyes hyper focus on the doorknob, silent and innocent to the cold stare I lay upon it. I press it open, laying my purse on the chair closest to the door. The seat sits at an awkward angle, pressed out of the way in the rush to get everything important out of my office.

Everything is in disarray. My computer tower is gone, and the lonely monitor plug dangles helplessly over the edge of my desk. I stare at it, unable to move forward. I graze over the papers that were muddled through; and stop on the picture of my parents, their smiling faces warped behind a broken glass frame.

The lack of respect for my personal effects is what gets me. It conjures feelings of violation and anger I can't reconcile. It makes me amazed at how I know every single person in this building and yet, one of them – did this. One of them clawed through my things and broke my picture. I bite my lip until I swear it's bleeding as I take the picture in my hands. I flip it over and work free the backing to remove the image. I sniff at uncried tears as I realize how naïve I am.

Leaving a job feels like I'm ending another marriage. Separation of something that had once felt so permanent and important jars me, but the pain is tempered so it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would. I set the battered frame aside. It hurts erasing my own existence; however just like with Richard, I know there is no respect for my person. And that is something I won't ever tolerate again.

I slip the picture into my purse and collect a few last pieces of little things I had bought. A pen case and a few sticky notes are all I can find to lay claim to. I turn to the browning roses on the credenza near my window. I feel my knees rattle a little and I sit back on my desk. Quinn's roses.

I walk toward them after collecting myself and I wrap my hands around the stems, pulling them closer. I never properly said thank you. This hurts the most, I acknowledge, as I pick them up. The stems drip water back into the vase, and I focus on the gatherings of color as they blur and melt before my eyes. I set them back into the vase and dry my tears. I pull at one, and break the flower off saving it for myself and leaving the rest. I open the drawer to my desk and slide her card out, pocketing it.

All at once I hear the swirls of commotion and a loud booming voice penetrates the early morning bustle of the office. "Please stand at your desk and raise your hands were they are visible!"

I know who it is, and even with that understanding I still find myself pulled toward the doorway to peer out over the floor. The cubicles are filled with horrified faces, straight backed employees frozen in place with their hands raised. The only motion is the FBI agents moving around them, fanning across the floor.

They keep pouring up the stairway, like a wellspring of humanity broken open. One of them makes a bee line straight for me. My heartbeat deafens me and I back away against his onslaught. "Ma'am, stop. Please step out of the office." I reach for my purse and do as he requests, my hands and knees shaking. His deep voice and large frame presses in on me. "Arlington, Rachel?" He says automatically.

"Yes." My throat is squeezed tightly and the sound is small and choked.

He glances around my office, seeing it's stripped. "You're on the 'do not interrogate' list." I'm grateful for it. "Come with me please."

I move in slow motion through the building as more agents, these with boxes, begin stripping down the desks and cubicles around me. They pack up everything methodically, frighteningly perfect in their deconstruction. And I'm the only one to blame as they begin a mass exodus of the building. I know I'm in shock as numbness passes through me, wiping out anything I could ever possibly feel.

The loud booming voice penetrates my reality again. "Everyone please go to the Bronze Conference Room!" He points to the first row of cubicles and the employees stream down the stairs. It is the rush of a river, pressed against its own will. I grab at the images because I can't process anything. Voices whisper in hushed tones, further fueling the image of water in my mind, pulling on one another like a tide.

I hit the linoleum of the ante-area at the top of the stairs and a whipped frightened voice calls out. "I couldn't do anything, I'm sorry!" It is the downstairs receptionist drowning in her sudden overwhelming misery. She is lost on the sea as she is corralled by an FBI agent, the letters stark against his back. "They had a search warrant!"

I don't understand who she is apologizing to until the CEO and members of the executive team are paraded behind me and past me in handcuffs. One of them is Marci. Her look cores through me, dark and foreboding in silent scrutiny. And under her judgment, I feel a flicker of pain. I shoot the same look back, ducking my head and turning to follow the agent leading me toward the side exit.

There is nothing left to be said or done. I have singlehandedly done everything possible to ensure very few will escape unscathed. I lift my head and straighten my shoulders as eyes follow me. I don't look back, even though I want to. I want them to remember my silent confident departure. Another little bit of my past self raising her head in defiance.

The sunlight streams down cutting at low angles in the early California morning. I exit on the heels of the FBI agent who indicates I can leave. "Thank you for all your help." He says slowly before circling back into the building and leaving me alone.

I freeze in my place, my purse still wrapped around my shoulder. I look down at it, trying to figure out what it is and process why it is there. I fish for my keys, my hands shaking. It is all my fault. Despite my anger at the company, my self-righteousness is hurting people that I care about. Nameless faceless people who just want to work and earn a living… people who are just like me. Always at the mercy of someone or something.

I find my keys and pull them free, fumbling and dropping them on the black parking lot. I stare at them and feel the first threads of guilt and remorse thread the needle in my heart and embroider painfully all over it.

I drop to pick them up and angrily scrape them from the ground. I make it about half way across the parking lot, cursing myself with every step, before I hear a familiar sound. The pop of a Lexus door. It's funny how something so arbitrary can be pulled from my mind and recognized. I turn as a high heeled pump and well formed calf slide to the ground through the open doorway.

Quinn pulls herself out and fixes me with a warm look that unleashes the steeled shock I'm in. I'm crying before I get to her, and her arms lock around me tightly, summoning the girl from the woman and the pain from my heart. She hushes me with quiet sounds. "It's going to be all right."

"Will it?" I sniffle.

"I'll always be around to make sure it is."

I look up at her burnished eyes. "Promise me?"

"You have my word." She kisses my temple.

And she has my heart.

"Let's go home."


	22. Epilogue

Epilogue

_3 months later…_

The sunlight streams through the second story window. I like staring at it, especially on a day like this. A day where I'm able to do one of the things I have been promising myself I would. I trace the light as it falls across the floor where I'm supposed to be working, and instead finds me daydreaming again. I do a lot of that now, my mind's constant mantra hiccuping like a scratched CD, catching me in blissful moments of quiet surrender.

Of course, between these moments, I'm not nearly as quiet as I used to be. I talk a lot more now. I feel like I should say again, but this is of substance and importance, unlike before. Quinn has changed me. We talk about things that matter in our world and our lives. And the silence of our days is only by our choosing and not lack of interest. It is a pleasant change.

I stare down at the empty space on my ring finger, the skin tanning to match the rest of my hand. Finally done and gone, my divorce had been swift because of the police incident. That and Quinn had paid for the best legal counsel available. Richard had walked away with little more than a small severance for his time being spent and the clothes on his back.

And since he hadn't worked in almost five years, everything was mine.

Again my eyes find the vacant spot on my finger, and I feel the sudden yearning to fill the space and permanently belong to someone. I roll my eyes up and away, just to stop the increased pounding of my heart and silence the silly adolescent desires and images that paint me red in embarrassment.

I busy myself with staring at the clock on my computer. It is frozen as I focus on it and I adjust myself from my reclining position. I tap my ballpoint pen against my leg in thought. The movers should have already been here. I check the cell phone on the floor beside me, empty of messages and texts, glad I didn't miss the movers' call. Glad the pang of fear at picking it up no longer haunts me…

Quinn's chair creaks loudly and the motion distracts me. I listen to the tapping of her fingers as she calculates numbers at her desk. I look up at her and measure the tilt of her figure, deeply engrossed in what she is doing. A bare foot taps the vacant air from her awkward perch in her leather chair.

I smile at the fidgety motion and my eyes drift across the room to where she had purchased the exact same set up for me. An ergonomic chocolate colored leather chair and dark antique desk. I have Rachel-ized the space a little, putting up pink 'Post Its,' and the framed picture that had once sat in my office and various other creature comforts around. It is a very nice desk; however, somehow I always end up here, on the floor beside Quinn, trading my posture for proximity.

And sometimes it is great, because I can very quickly coerce her to take a break by sliding my lips up her strong thighs, yet other times, not so great, having had my fingers run over a time or two.

But I freely admit that I'm crazy in love with her, as evidenced by the fact that I'm once again risking my fingers here on the floor working, or trying to, as the case may be.

I pull my laptop over my crossed legs where it rests lightly. I scan spread sheet after spread sheet, losing myself in the numbers and hoping it will abate my excitement. Checking through Quinn's calculations is easy and I page through them as quickly as I can and still comprehend what I'm seeing. I punch a formula into Excel and total the column. It doesn't work out correctly and I quirk my eyebrows at the figure. My beautiful girlfriend is hardly ever wrong, so I check it again.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?" She shifts back in her office chair and smiles at me. I turn the laptop for her to see the column totals.

"If they tried hiding the funds in the pre-paid utilities accounts, these numbers shouldn't match and they do." She squints at the totals and I continue to babble as her hazel eyes flick back and forth over the electronic sheets, swiveling to see better. "I actually think that you made a mistake here."

She laughs. "You sounded almost happy about that." Quinn twists her hair around her pen idly and secures it behind her head loosely. I smile at the seriousness of her face as it is countered by a lazy happy burst of blonde strands.

"No, just surprised." I laugh. "I worked hard for those utility bills. Those ridiculously tight polo shirts infringe on my self-respect."

She snickers. "You like it, you little whore." Quinn slides out of her chair and edges on her knees toward me as I lower the laptop. "Why don't you wear those shirts for me, so I can infringe on your self-respect?"

Her lips claim mine, the motion well practiced and immediately heating through me. "Because I wear far more compromising stuff for you." She turns to study the computer in my lap, so I take the opportunity to nibble her ear before I tease her, "or nothing at all."

Her eyes drift to mine with a smile tugging at her lips. "True. Where did you find those bills again? Under the boss' desk?"

I scoff at her and swat her arm. "No! Don't be crude. It was stuck in the shredder." I point to the tattered edge of bills in the stack beside me.

"Oh right." She ghosts a wink as her fingers work over the keyboard in my lap. I trace the lines of her face as she squints in thought. She's lost to me now, as she goes into work mode, and I lean back to revel in her while she does her duty. With a final key stroke she sighs and turns to me. "They're right; you added the wrong column in."

"I did?" I frown, pulling the laptop closer to inspect the numbers. She's right. "Oh, I did." I sigh. I never really had a mind for business anyway. I pause chewing my lip. That is the millionth time I have had that thought in the past few weeks.

The more I think it, the more I believe it. I almost wish she hadn't purchased the office set up she had, because the only thing I want to do is create. Create something beautiful, for me and her. My thoughts fade again as I wonder where the movers are. I have something I need to do before I lose my nerve.

"You're so cute I could kiss you." She laughs as she sits back and lets her fingertips brush up my arm and against my clavicle, tracing the neckline of my fitted shirt. "You are so subversive when you want to be."

"You already did and yes, I am when it's needed." I remind her with a grin. "So, tomorrow I'll go down and grab copies of a few other files and we can finalize the report. It will be nice to get out of that god forsaken chauvinistic environment."

"The good thing is that because of your, um… _sacrifices_, we can close two investigations at once." She is partly sarcastic and partly grateful. I can see it in her eyes how much my help means to her. "You know what that means, right?"

I do. She will be very close to finally be able to get her piano. I nod silently with a knowing smiling. "I know; only one more." I tap my flip flop against her leg, knocking it off my foot which she replaces quickly. I smile at the automatic and adorable motion. "Just don't get buried so deeply in that thing that I never see you, okay?" Her hands rest pleasantly on my ankle and she rubs it absently

She is humming with excitement at the prospect and I feel her thrill echo into me, making me just as happy. I pick up my phone and look at its blank face. I sigh softly. "What did you say?" She asks confused, the sound of my frustration summoning her from the lofty fantasies she had been enjoying beside me.

"Nothing." I quirk a quick smile. "I'm gonna head downstairs, do you want something while I'm down there?"

She pretends to think and then leans in, crashing her lips against mine and pulling away too quickly. "I'll want you while you're down there. So come back fast so I can ignore you when you're up here."

I laugh pulling her back for another kiss. "Then I'm not coming back up." She rocks back and forth beside me, pinging little kisses against my mouth with an even pendulum motion. "I gotta… get… up… and… eat… some… thing…" She interrupts and staggers my sentence changing her face every time she moves away. At the end, it is her classic sharp eyebrow. "I'm hungry." I whine.

"Okay. Go." She swats my butt lightly as I stand, and I leave her to her work.

I vault over the office supplies bagged on the last two steps, and a mix of her and my running shoes. I grab her Nikes and drag them with me to the front door. "Quinn!" I call up. "If you're gonna step in mud, seriously leave your shoes outside!"

I hear her laugh and I roll my eyes. "Sorry!"

I open the door and lean over depositing them on the porch, when the screech of airbrakes summons my attention. My hands fall limp. They're here.

Finally.

I leave the door hanging open and rush out to the piano truck. An army of men disembark and the driver, a tall stringy young guy, is closest so I intercept him first. "Oh boy, I'm so glad you're here. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to make it." I follow him as he circles the truck, running my mouth because I can't contain my excitement. "I trust everything is still in one piece, yes?"

"I couldn't afford to mess this thing up, so yeah it is." He regards me with a smile. "Is it yours?"

"It's my friend's, actually." I feel guilty so I continue, "my girlfriend's..." I correct, as he measures me.

"Okay, well," they look up at the house and then at the piano in the back of the truck. "I… um… is there another wider door somewhere?"

I shake my head, "Though we might be able to try the bay window." I'm vibrating as they nod and start working on bringing the piano out. I run back to the house, dangerously close to slipping in my excitement, because I'm unable to keep it contained. I'm through the door and bolting into the formal living room. I listen for Quinn. Nothing. Good.

I don't even bother shucking my shoes as I climb over the sofa, throw the cranberry curtains aside and pop the hinges on the window. It opens in a wide swing and summer breeze pours through in the cross ventilation from the cracked window upstairs. I hear Quinn squeak as papers flutter in her office.

"Sorry baby!" I yell half turning as I dismount and start moving furniture aside. I'm in a rush, but I still take enough time to line everything up tightly against the walls. Tables and sofas pressed out of the way, creating a rectangular space for the piano to sit facing the window. I figure she'll like the view of the foothills over the house of the neighbor and a spattering of trees.

I cross my arms as I watch the men unload the piano onto a dolly, my heart trembling as they roll it up the driveway. I spent every last dime I got from my divorce on it and cashed out my 401K too. I didn't want to go half and half on it. Not on her dreams, not when she has fought so hard to give me mine.

This always was mine to get for her.

"Hey, what's all that racket baby?" Quinn calls from the staircase, as her legs come into view and then she ducks to look at me. I smile as a breeze blows in and grabs at her hair, swirling it from the meager binding of her pen barrette. Her eyes are gleaming as she creeps towards me. "You find you need to move furniture to admire the view? I don't know about that, but I love how in the spring the light hits the hills and..." Her words die as she peeks through the window, right as the piano enters the frame.

I watch her face because I have thought about this moment for three long months. Through my ugly divorce, the questionings about Trinity and the small bumps we have had because of the stress of the aforementioned situations; this one single moment has been what has championed my heart to go another day. She doesn't disappoint.

Quinn goes deathly still, her eyes widening, lips falling open in shock. For the contingency plan master she has become, I haven't seen this look since she was a young girl. The unbridled shock and confusion of being taken completely by surprise echoes in the limp muscles that struggle to hold her upright.

She's motionless through the grunting and groaning as the piano encroaches through the window and comes to a rest. Even as I sign the delivery confirmation and take the triplicate receipt, she remains rooted in place. I half smile at her as her eyes run over and over the instrument, faster and faster until she blinks and swallows in rhythm to the motion. I would pay anything to know what she is thinking.

"Rachel?" Her voice is strangled and I smile at her from across the room. "What did you do?" She asks dumbfounded as tears light her eyes.

"Something crazy for the woman I love."

And for an amazing moment I feel everything between us as she looks at me; invisible bonds thread and transmit the swell of emotion through cracks in her normally even-keel exterior. They bubble sentiment into me.

She's not staring at me; she's staring **into** me with emotion saturated eyes. The tempest of her passion, those stormy clouds that rile behind her gaze, part for me. I can't breathe as it reveals that she will love me like no one could ever love me. And that she would do anything to protect me.

That her life feels more full because I'm in it.

A dusty summer wind whips back over us and suddenly I love cranberry curtains as they frame her in her fold of gentle emotion. I see Quinn for seemingly the first time; ever strong and patient, but emotionally exposed in a swirl of blonde hair and tears. A beautiful woman, imperfectly perfect for me, backdropped against the flutter of red. I find her eyes again, pools of shifting amber and jade, dripping full tears along the porcelain of her cheeks.

I don't have to ask if she's happy as we draw in and I wrap her in protective arms, her tears ply gently against the skin of my neck. She has given me so much, but the final piece was this, the forging of my independence on the edge of a sixty-five thousand dollar check to buy her the gift that meant everything to her.

And I will happily use everything I have left from my old life as a down payment on a new one with her.

"Quinn?"

She nods sniffling slightly.

"There is one more thing I have for you."

She sputters a little, pulling back enough to press a wet cheek to mine, her lashes brushing my face. "I don't know what else you could give me." She laughs a little giddy with excitement. "I don't think I can take anything more."

I smile swaying a little in the middle of the room with her. "I have something for us, then." I smile as she pulls back, "sit."

She does, sliding into the space between the bench and the instrument like its majesty was made for her. She commands it as she presses back the cover and with jigsaw perfection it opens to her. I lean over it, tracing the wood with my fingers, soaking it in as her eyes do the same thing.

"What do you want me to play for you?" She smiles, her fingers at the ready, long and perfect.

"Play me a love song." I whisper edging closer. "Anything, I know them all."

"No request?" Her soft voice just about makes my heart burst, knowing that its home and finally where it belongs.

"Just your favorite." I smile as her eyes rest on me, "I just want to sing it for you." Before the first notes depress, she's crying again.

And I sing to her to sooth her tears.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for enjoying and reviewing and reading this story. I've very special to me and I'm happy I could share it once again. Take care and I'll see you around in my other stories. :)


End file.
